


Complete

by ALCzysz17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Breeding, Breeding Kink, Clit Play, Cowgirl Position, Cunnilingus, Dark!Jon, Dark!Sansa, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forbidden Attraction, Forbidden Love, Half-Sibling Incest, Loss of Virginity, Nipple Play, PWP is not my forte apparently, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Jon, Possessive Sex, Rough Clit Play, Rough Sex, Squirting, Why can't I write smut without a whole plot?, jonsa, rough nipple play, somewhat Dark Sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-11 13:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15316137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALCzysz17/pseuds/ALCzysz17
Summary: Jon comes for Sansa at the Vale and saves her. Sansa finds Jon different from the boy she use to know and with that difference comes a forbidden attraction between the two half-siblings, and to death to those who think to pull them apart because with each other they are complete.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, there is a reason for this late posting! First off, there is much, much more to this story than this first chapter, hence why I broke it up to two instead of a oneshot as intended. Secondly, I forgot that this weekend was my cousin's wedding to which I was asked to do her hair and makeup for said wedding which is out in Myrtle Beach, SC (I live forty minutes from Raleigh, NC) which is a three and a half hour drive. So, I ended up getting a hotel with my mom and little sister (mom doing her pictures and sister is maid of honor) for Friday night and Saturday night. I didn't bring my laptop and I just didn't have time to finish, sadly. I also got burnt and I am as red like as crab from Sunday at the beach so...
> 
> I hope y'all all enjoy this first chapter, I am hoping to have the second done by tonight and maybe I'll add a third if I know how to completely end this story. Why can't I write smut without a full blown story!!?? Why!? ^_~

 

 

Sansa hadn’t known how to feel when Jon appeared in the Eyrie. It had been so long since she had seen her bastard, half-brother, so long since she first thought about him when she became the bastard Alayne Stone. At first, she hadn’t thought he would remember her, much less recognize her. The last time he saw her, she was eleven with bright auburn hair and her nose stuck up in the sky whenever she saw him.

Yet Jon took one look at her and breathed out her name with such reverence, eyes so wide they stretched the scars upon his face and his mouth opened again to repeat her trueborn name. He had recognized her when no one else had, seen through her dyed hair and aged face and body for the little half-sister she once was of his. Sansa openly cried when he raced towards her, embracing her tightly to his body as though he intended to suck her in and make her apart of him.

She wouldn’t have minded.

He was Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, the living dead from the whispers she heard, a God among men who rose from the dead to take vengeance against his forsaken brothers. Sansa wasn’t sure how much she believed of the hype, but she had seen brief glimpses of his scarred chest to know that maybe some of the rumors were true.

Jon was doing everything in his power to release her from Littlefinger, finding the cocktail that would wash away the brown from her locks and gaining loyalty from the bannermen of the Vale. Petyr tried to keep Sansa hidden though, tried to deter her brother but it was to no avail. She came out one morning with her hair shining bright and red in the minor sunlight that was afforded to them during such cloudy days and there was no denying of whom she truly was.

It didn’t take much to turn the men against Petyr, it didn’t take a suspense of belief to think that he stole Sansa Stark and hid her from the world, kidnapping the charge was placed as. Since she was a high lord’s daughter, disgraced and a traitor as her father was named, he was still highly thought of and regarded.

Sansa held Sweetrobin’s hand while she curled her other hand around Jon’s arm as they watched Petyr be hanged for his treasons, one being her kidnapping and the another being the attempted murder of her little cousin.

With her guidance, Sansa helped the little boy gain control of himself and mature just a little before leaving with Jon and an army of the Vale at their backs to take Winterfell back. It was during their time on the road to meet with the other bannermen Jon had with his wildlings that Sansa realized there was something entirely different about her brother.

It wasn’t how he aged, changing from the boy who hid in the shadows, sulking that she had known to a man whom demanded respect without asking for it, standing tall and broad with a stern expression to his features. It was the way she felt around him. A melancholy that clung to his being while anger and rage bubbled beneath his skin. Sometimes she could practically hear his teeth grinding when something did not please him.

No, it was the way he looked at her, all heated eyes and blank face like he was staring right into her soul. There was also a darkness, a stench of death that permeated his soul. His dark grey eyes seemed darker, blacker. It could be from the side-effect of his death and rise to life again, or it could have always been there, lying in wait for the perfect time to hatch.

Sansa wasn’t sure how she felt about the whole ordeal. She cared for Jon as her brother, but there was also something darker inside her, twisted from the years of abuse and manipulation she had endured. She craved those dark eyes on her being, stripping her of her clothes and skin to peer into her darken soul, to truly see her for whom she had become. Sansa would willingly bare everything to him, if only he’d ask.

There were fleeting touches between them. A brush of his fingers on her shoulder, a squeeze of her hand on top of his, and even the brush of his body against her back when he decided to squeeze past her from behind while there was more than enough space in front of her. Jon also liked leaning into her, whispering his words for only her ears where he’d seemingly miscalculate his lean and his lips would brush the shell of her ear. Or maybe it wasn’t miscalculation, maybe it was his intention all along.

Each and everyone of their actions brought strange swirling warmth through her body. Little shocks of pleasure that ran beneath her skin while static shocks ran over her skin when they were within the same vicinity. It didn’t take Sansa long to know what was happening between them, that an unnatural attraction was sparking. A dirty, disgusting attraction between half-siblings that shouldn’t happen, shouldn’t even be acknowledged.

Yet Sansa couldn’t find it in herself to care any longer.

She remembered her training with Petyr all too well, the teaching of seduction he taught her both in words and actions. She remained a maiden, true, but she had not remained untouched. Petyr made sure of that with his lingering fingers and unwanted kisses. She was only four and ten when she learned how to manipulate a man’s body for his pleasure, to be taught her own pleasure by his disgusting hands.

Nightmares still marred her dreams, memories that she wished were figments of her imagination haunted her waking being. If it wasn’t Petyr then it was Marillion, or some high lord who thought it fit to place his hands on her. Thinking her nothing but there for their pleasure. Sansa grew to hate most men, loathing their attentions and wishing to be someplace else.

She could never hate Jon though.

Jon may have flirted with the dangerous boundary that their sibling status put forth, but he never made her uncomfortable, nor did she loathe his attentions. On contrary, she craved them, needed his fingers brushing her shoulders, his body pressing against hers in passing and those whispered words that she barely understands because she is so hyperaware of his lips dancing along the shell of her ear.

Sansa knew she should be worried for her mental state, that finding attraction and encouraging it with her brother was wrong, but she hadn’t the mind to care anymore. How could something so wrong feel so right? We’re they both so damaged beyond repair that they would seek each other to feel so complete? She may never know the answer, there may not even be a simple enough one to answer such thought provoking questions.

It was a good thing they were minor in the scheme of things.

\-----------------------------------------

It was the night before they were to meet up with the bannermen of the North and the wildlings from beyond the wall. Sansa felt chilled to the bone, no amount of furs could keep her warm it seemed. Jon was in one of the big tents, going over the maps and speaking of strategy with the bannermen of the Vale. She was more than welcomed to stand by and watch, listen in and learn something she would not otherwise know, but Sansa didn’t feel like it.

Instead she roamed through the camp, allowing the chill to be imbedded into her bones. She would survive though, she was of the North, a true Stark didn’t let the cold bother them; they embraced it.

Ghost watched her roam, keeping an ever-watchful eye on her. He was never far off from her, her white furred, red eyed guardian. Jon didn’t like leaving her alone in such a big camp of men, very few women were about and not as desirable as a high-born lady such as herself. Sansa didn’t fear them though, it took too much energy to fear the unknown.

There was a light snowfall around them, brushing her cheeks and lips. She couldn’t hold back the wish that it was Jon’s lips brushing hers than snowflakes, caressing her cheeks wistfully while peering down into her blue gaze with his dark eyes; those all-seeing eyes.

The same ones that were upon her now.

Sansa cocked her head to the left, just enough to see him standing there, watching her. Her lips curled into a smile and she closed her eyes to him, turning her face up to the soft fluttering of snowflakes then she spun around in circles, arms flung out from her body in a strange dance just for him. When she finally stopped it was to find him standing before her, face blank, but eyes boring molten heat. It was like her body was drenched in wildfire, suddenly she was chilled to the bone no longer.

“Jon,” Sansa breathed into the wind, allowing the word to be carried to his ears.

“Sansa,” Jon muttered back, pushing against the flow of wind so they reached her ears. Such power, such heat.

“It is cold out, my lord, and night falls.” His eyes drifted from her face to take in the snowflakes and the darkening skies before landing back on her.

“Aye, and you should be readying for slumber, my lady.” His voice was huskier than normal, deeper seeming as though it bore from his chest than his throat.

“I’m much too awake for that,” she countered lightly, doing another spin.

The grip of his hands on her hips stopped her movement, halting her with her back to him. His heat burned through her cloak and dress, bleeding through the fabric into her skin. It was like he was containing the wildfire inside her. Sansa remained still, breathing shallowly as she waited for him to speak. Jon moved behind her, pressing down upon her back as he nosed away hair from her ear, so he may speak into it.

“You are merely restless, sweet Sansa,” Jon whispered into her ear, skimming his lips along the shell until his lips and breath fluttered her earlobe.

“How do I become restful then?” she asked breathlessly, enclosing her fingers together as chills ran down her spine even though she was on fire.

“Do you really wish to know, sweetness?” Jon inquired darkly. The touch of his tongue trailing along the shell of her ear, bottom to top was intoxicating, drowning out all the sounds around them until it centered entirely on him. Sansa shivered at the feel, closing her eyes as she cocked her head back.

“Yes, Jon, I wish to know.” All at once he was gone from behind her, closing a hand around hers to drag her away. There was no one around, all having disappeared into their tents from the cold, night air.

Sansa felt invigorated by it, even more so by the strength of Jon’s movements, every step sure and fast as she was led to his tent. Hers lay but a few feet beside his. Ghost followed silently, halting at the entrance to the tent and laying down; guarding. It was warm inside the tent, enough to fight back the bracing cold, but not enough to be unbearable. Sansa didn’t need to look around, she had been in his tent numerous times.

Jon insisted she stay in there when he was gone from camp, Ghost standing guard at the entrance. She would lay in his furs, cuddling into the stale coldness that lingered well after his heat had receded. It smelled of Jon, of the woods and cold, of the deathly smell that continuously followed him wherever he went. She would nap in his furs, sleep the day away when he was gone so she would not miss him so dearly, it was because of that habit that she was restless now.

He stopped in the center of the tent, dropping his hold on her hand but not turning around to her. His shoulders were stiff, tension running down his back. Sansa only then noticed he wasn’t wearing a cloak at all, just his leather jerkin and dark shirt underneath, even his hands were unclothed, yet he radiated heat like a fire; like wildfire. Jon did not move an inch, he was waiting on her.

Her heart started to pound inside her chest. They had never breeched the line in the dirt, they’ve danced around it, brushed against it, but never had they crossed that line. Sansa knew the gravity of weight that settled upon her shoulders, it was all on her. Jon stood right at the line, hand held out for her to grasp, she would have to reach across and take a hold of his hand to complete the crossing.

To go beyond what was right and wrong.

To finally be complete.

Her cloak dropped to the ground, her gloves soon following after then she was unbuttoning her dress, allowing it to pool around her feet. Jon stayed stock-still, hearing the rustle of fabric, but he moved not an inch. Sansa tugged her arms from her shift, letting that fall as well then, she stepped out of her boots, stockings and smallclothes. The cold air brought goosebumps upon her skin, made her nipples tighten and harden from her breasts. It was invigorating.

She walked up to his prone form, running her naked fingers along his stiff shoulders, feeling the cold leather upon her skin. Slowly she walked in front of him, exhaling shallowly as his eyes connected to hers. Jon gazed hotly into her eyes, his so dark, an endless pool of black as they bore into her then they drifted down her form, taking in her breasts, scarred skin and auburn hair on her mound.

“You are beautiful, sweet sister,” Jon growled deeply, reaching to run his fingers over her shoulder, tracing her collarbone down to circle her pebbled nipple. “Are you mine?” he questioned almost teasingly though he was deadly serious.

Sansa nodded, fluttering her eyes as she embraced the title of being his. “I am yours.”

“Mine, and only mine. Once I have you, no other can, Sansa. You will bore my babes and be by my side, for now and forever.” Sansa’s heart pounded harder against her chest as a thrill she never thought she’d feel came over her. Hearing his words of claiming and wanting with underlying lust sprinkled within made her eyes water and her breathing irregular.

“Yes, but,” Sansa started, trailing her fingers down his chest to start working the buttons open. “That means you are mine and only mine, Jon. I have no means to share you with no one, we are wolves and we mate for life. Do you understand me?” Sansa glanced up so their eye connected, ensuring that her words were clearly understood. He won’t share either and she won’t share him either.

His breathing was deeper, eyes somehow darker and a very satisfied smirk on his lips as he took her words in. Sansa pushed his jerkin off his shoulders, squeezing the muscles there as she replicated his smirk with one of her own.

“Aye, I understand, my lady, my sweet Sansa.”

Without further thought Jon ripped his shirt from his chest, ripping seams to bear his chest to her, his deeply scarred and marred skin. Sansa wasted no time, pressing kisses to his healed over wounds, running her lips over the ragged edges. Jon groaned at her attention, dancing his fingers down her spine and cupping one of her bottom cheeks to knead as she healed him with her kisses.

Then he was grasping the nape of her neck, directing her lips upward until she was pressing kisses to his lips instead. The kiss was hungry between them, teeth nipping and tongues touching. Sansa moaned and whined into his mouth, begging him for more, pleading him for more. Jon didn’t disappoint her.

His furs were cold on her back, cooling some of the overbearing heat inside. Yet Jon was like live fire, every touch, every kiss was filled with flames that licked at her skin, wishing to get inside her. Sansa trailed her hands over his body, following every contour of muscle and the dips and curves that came with them. Jon’s teeth scraped the column of her neck, dragging against her skin with the promise of claiming her as a wolf would its mate.

And oh, did she wish for him to claim her so.

It was a shock to her system when his hot mouth closed over her icy, pebbled nipple, lashing the stiff bud with his hot, wet tongue before closing his teeth around it. Sansa cried into his furs, urging him on, urging for more. He gave more as asked, suckling her breasts until they were red, wet and perturbing from her breasts. Jon didn’t stop there, biting at her ribs and stomach, leaving traces of teeth marks and rashes from his beard along the way.

Sansa craved the mix of pleasure and pain, craved his lips and tongue, his calloused fingers that glided over her skin. Jon forced her legs apart for him, giving her no time to wonder what his intentions were, no time to think if it was right or not, no time but to take what he so willingly gave.

“Jon!” Sansa crooned behind her hand, gasping loudly as he devoured her center. His mouth situated in a place that none have ever gone before. Forced touches, unwanted touches, but never mouths or tongues.

She was weeping from the pleasure, biting down on her fingers to keep from crying out her pleasure as his tongue slid through her folds and his lips made love to her soaked and throbbing cunt. Her thighs clamped around his head, but he was determined to see things through. When Sansa got enough strength in her to peer down her heaving breasts, she took in the sight of his dark head settled so nicely between her clenched pale thighs. His hands keeping her somewhat pried open to his attentions as she listened to the sound of his supping upon her cunt. The lapping sound of his tongue licking through her folds, tonguing the slit to her entrance and drinking the wetness of her pleasure.

It was too much, it was something she never experienced, and she was more than glad it was Jon giving her the experience, untainted by previous experiences before. Sansa slowly drew her hand down her body to lightly touch his head, reaching down to tug the tie that kept his wild curls bound. Suddenly his eyes were upon hers, his mouth settled in a new location where most of the throbbing took place. Unconsciously she closed her hand into his hair as he sucked on the swollen nub hidden at the top of her cunt. He rubbed and lashed at it with his tongue, teasing the throbbing stings of pleasure through her as he worked her body like she was a harp and he the harpist.

It was the mixture of his dark eyes watching her, taking in the way her mouth released long, drawn out moans around her fingers, the way her nose wrinkled in pleasure and her brow scrunched as she fought towards her release. His mouth persisted, sucking against the swollen nub, forcing it out of hiding so he may caress it with his tongue and drench it in the heat of his mouth. Sansa felt the end coming and fought towards it and against it. She couldn’t focus on anything but the immense pleasure of his mouth, pushing her closer and closer to that edge.

The explosion of her peak was overpowering, causing shakes to wreck her body as she bit hard on her finger. The taste of blood touched her tongue where she broke the skin on her index finger. Jon leaned above her, watching her expressions as her climax receded. He took her finger from her mouth, licking the blood that dripped from it and sucking her finger into his mouth. Sansa moaned at the slight pain, he released her finger soon after then he was kissing her again, sharing the taste of her peak and blood between them. He quickly ripped at his breeches, tugging them and his smallclothes off as he kissed her, sliding his tongue possessively around hers before he was pulling back to take her in.

“Mine, mine, mine,” Jon mumbled repeatedly in her ear as he got situated between her legs, continuing his mantra as he pushed his harden cock inside her. He was thicker than she expected, stretching her so much more than a finger or two could, bringing her to the brink of pain but Sansa embraced it. “Mine, mine, mine.”

Jon moaned in her ear upon every thrust, telling her who she belonged too. Sansa dug her fingers into his back, grazing his ear with her teeth so she could repeat the same words back; he liked that, a lot. She wrapped her legs tightly around his hips as he started to pound into her, pumping his cock in and out of her rapidly as he got closer and closer to his peak.

Sansa told him she loved him, told him no man could compare to him, told him that she would die than be parted from him ever again. Her words urged him to thrust harder and faster, cradling her bottom cheeks in his tightly clenched hands as he drove into her cunt, into her bracing heat and softness. Reminding her with each hard pound that she was his have, to bear children with, to love. Tears of happiness leaked from her eyes, her fingers digging marks into his skin as she held on.

She felt him pull back, hovering above her. Sansa opened her eyes to see him watching her, admiring her as he continued to brand her cunt as his, punishing her soft walls that closed around his cock. His eyes drifted down her body, staring at her shifting breasts, moving up and down her chest at each hard, sharp thrust of his hips and down to where they were connected. She loved seeing his eyes watch his cock slide out of her gasping cunt then surging forward to fill her to the brim. It was intoxicating the way her body seemed to exert energy though she remained on her back, sweat forming on her skin and sliding down through the curves of her body.

There was sweat on his body as well, dripping off to find home upon her skin; another way of connection, she mused. Jon removed his hands from her bottom cheeks, ghosting his touch over her wet skin as he seemed to map her out. He planted one hand by her head, Sansa could feel the tug of her hair where he left his hand, clawing her hair and the pillow her head was placed on. His other hand enclosed a breast, squeezing the flesh and pinching her nipple between his fingers.

She moaned at his touch, moaned into his mouth when he kissed her. Sansa could feel that end approaching again, his hips hadn’t stopped their hard and fast pounding. The sound of slapping skin echoed in the air around them, anyone nearby could never mistake that sound for anything but the throes of sex and coupling, the sounds of skin meeting and energy being exerted. Her ankles ached from where they were locked behind his lower back, heels digging into the tops of his bottom.

Jon plunged his tongue into her mouth, dancing around her tongue and taming it for his rule while his fingers twisted and plucked at her swollen nipple, the poor bud aching between pleasure and pain by his hand. Sansa loved it though, the way he manipulated her body for both of them. Jon ripped his mouth from hers, dropping his face down by her ear to breath words of his longing for her, to speak of wishing to take her out in front of his men so they would know who she belonged too. His words of possession, stating how he’d press her against the table with their maps, fucking her cunt so hard she’d scream as his men talked over her, speaking of strategy against the Boltons.

He even told her how after he killed the men holding Winterfell, he’d wish for nothing more than to strip her in the courtyard and take her like a wolf, letting them all see how she howled at his touch and cock, watching as he fucked her in the dirt, mud and blood.

“I might put a babe in you then, for all to see. Would you like that?” Jon wondered hotly into her ear, grunting as he gave a hard slam into her quivering walls that resulted in her peak. Sansa cried ‘yes’ into his neck, not caring if he dragged her out in the middle of the tents now and took her again, showing her naked form and letting each and every man witness her spread cunt as long as he kept her all to himself.

Jon groaned at her tightness, struggling to continue his punishing pace before he slowed to shallow ruts, his peak making his cock shiver inside her. Sansa whined at the feel of her insides warming from his seed, wishing for it to reach her womb and take root.

As everything started to settle into a hush quiet, his heavy breathing dominated all noise in the tent, hers softer as she didn’t exert as much energy as he had. Sansa brought her hands up to his face, scrubbing back his sweaty curls to gaze into his eyes. Finally, finally a smile came to his lips as his eyes seemed to lighten more, the darkness inside him having been sated and gone for the time being.

“I love you, Sansa Stark,” Jon stated clearly, pressing kisses upon her forehead, cheeks, nose and lips. It gave a lightness in her chest to hear him say it, that there was more than possession between them, that there was love. And with that love a sense of completeness between them, like two halves coming together to make a complete person, they completed what the other lacked and no one could ever ruin that, nor could anyone take that away from them.

Sansa sighed softly, tracing her lips along his neck to press a kiss underneath his chin. “And I love you, Jon Snow.”…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I forgot to mention but this piece (meaning this one chapter) was original apart of an idea of 'Thirty days of Jonsa' event (back in March), but I never got it done for what I originally wanted and now...its apart of this event, yay for recycling!! So, there will be more and it will display a darker Jon. Anywho, I hope y'all enjoyed this smutty piece and hopefully I can get the other chapter done tonight! Let me know whatcha think?! ^_~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is only half of the rest of the chapter, because it got very long with my added in smut (that was literally most of what was missing, the smut). That being said, I changed this to a four chapter story and I am sure y'all are probably happy about that too. This chapter is more rough sex with sprinkling of plot in between.
> 
> *Warning: mention of sexual attraction at underage memories/reflections
> 
> Enjoy! ^_~

 

 

 

Walking was awkward, riding was awkward, even standing was awkward for her. Sansa felt like she was bowlegged as she moved, she made sure no one could tell otherwise, but she knew and so did Jon. Every time she moved she would glance at him and see that self-satisfied smirk on his lips, eyes drifting up and down her form. He found her predicament quite amusing it seemed.

Jon had woken her later that night, positioning her on her hands and knees half asleep to take her like a wolf. He growled deeply in his chest as he thrusted into her, guiding her hips to meet his. It was pleasurable for her, peaking midway through and again when Jon manipulated her nub as he pounded into her cunt from behind. She collapsed tiredly to his bed, embracing his heat at her back and the heat leaking from between her thighs. He then woke her before daybreak, leading her to her bed with a kiss before she was woken an hour later by one of the ladies of the camp to start the day.

Sansa hoped her legs would work better soon, upon seeing the way his eyes heated up told her he intended to claim her again that very night.

The ride to meet the bannermen of the North and wildlings was rather short in comparison to the journey from the Vale and Eyrie. Jon seemed livelier once everyone had meeted and greeted. He seemed happier to be among the wildlings, most of all though it was more about how less tense he appeared than actually appearing happier. He, of course, introduced her to everyone, she noted that he introduced her as ‘Sansa Stark’ without adding ‘my sister’ at the end. Everything seemed to be going along on schedule and Sansa even found herself enjoying the wildlings, more so than the lords and ladies.

Until him.

Sansa knew she shouldn’t be surprised to see him here, he was apart of the Vale bannermen and behind Sweetrobin, he was heir to the Eyrie. Seeing Harrold Hardyng among the group really shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. He had left to do some errand for Littlefinger before Jon came for her, he and a few other men like Lothor Brune that were loyal to Petyr had gone. Sansa frowned at the sight of them, glancing over to Jon as he spoke to Tormund Giantsbane of the Wildlings.

“Lady Stone, or should I say Lady Stark?” Sansa frowned deeply, her nose wrinkling in disgust before she turned around to take in Harry with his bright, wide smile and arrogant eyes. Before he left they were to begin the settlement of a betrothal, but obviously that never happened and for that she was ever grateful though that left her wondering how he felt.

Especially with the revelations of her true identity.

“Lord Hardyng,” she greeted lightly and as politely as she could muster.

“I heard about the situation with Lord Baelish, I am sorry you had to go through such an ordeal and I am sadden we never got to initiating our betrothal,” Harry said plainly though the twitch in his cheek told her how he really felt. He must be so peeved, she thought amusedly.

“I am sure you are, my lord, but it would not have been a truthful arrangement regardless and I am still married to a Lannister.” The way his eyes darkened at her sarcastic reply made her smirk. “I must say though, I wonder why you are here at all and not back at the Eyrie with Sweetrobin?” Sansa asked thoughtfully, watching as his eyes narrowed for a moment before he was producing his brilliant smile once more.

“After we heard the news, I figured we should pledge ourselves to the cause of helping Lady Stark gain back her childhood home.” His answer was spoken truthfully, but the glint in his eyes as he regarded her spoke of falsehood. There was something more going on than simply wishing to help and even that was a stretch, she knew. Harry was up to something, Sansa knew it.

“Sansa.” A hand touched her shoulder and she knew instantly it was Jon even before he breathed her name out. She watched as Harry took Jon in, eyes moving up and down his figure before raising his hand in greeting.

“Lord Harrold Hardyng.” Jon glanced between him and his hanging hand before reluctantly reaching out to shake it. She could tell he was displeased with the way his hand on her shoulder tightened.

“Jon Snow,” he answered gruffly, eyeing him over as well.

Sansa had told Jon everything that had happened to her, from leaving Winterfell to leaving King’s Landing to the Eyrie; absolutely everything. That included the many men who had helped her, hurt her and intended to have her, meaning he knew all about Lord Hardyng.

“It is so nice of you to save Lady Stark from her predicament, you are her brother, am I right? The bastard?” Harry said everything so elegantly, hiding away the backhanded comments he was laying like bear traps on the ground.

“Half-brother and yes, I am the bastard,” Jon answered once more, his voice even deeper and darker. Sansa could sense he was being riled up, ready to bare down on Harry and though she would love for nothing more than to see such a thing, now was not the time nor the place.

Sansa turned to Jon, placing her hand on his chest to draw his attention to her. “Jon, I wish for you to introduce me to the other wildlings you are close to, before we are to ride again.”

Jon was glaring hard at Harry, both were of a similar height though she was sure Harry’s inch higher was due to his riding boots than actually stature. She pressed further into Jon and he responded by pulling her in then nodded, turning them away without even a goodbye.

As they walked away, Jon leaned down towards her, mumbling, “I don’t trust him.”

“Neither do I, nor the men that came with him. They were doing a task for Littlefinger before you arrived, so I find it odd and perplexing that they’d come here to pledge their help after knowing we had Littlefinger hanged,” Sansa muttered her suspicions, smiling at the men and few women that glanced upon them.

“Keep Ghost with you at all times,” Jon said though he issued it like a command. She looked up to see him watching her with dark eyes before bringing her over to the wildlings, intending to follow through with her wish…

\-----------------------------------------

They travelled for quite a few hours, taking minimal breaks in between while trying to eat up as much miles as they could. It would still be three days before they reached Winterfell and parley with the Boltons holding the castle. Sansa wasn’t much for riding, but she did her best and when she grew tired, Jon was right beside her, offering her a spot on his horse.

Riding with Jon’s arms around her was sweet and warming. He led the way down the trail with his men on either side of them. Davos, a man who had worked with and advised for Stannis Baratheon, had told her they had a wheelhouse for her to sit in, but Sansa much preferred riding with Jon. She felt safer that way though that was only the half of it.

He kept a hand on the reins while the other was wrapped around her waist, holding her at her belly with Sansa’s hands holding the pommel of their shared seat on the saddle as they rode. Sansa was lucky she was so small, able to easily share with Jon and still find some comfort and even if she hadn’t, the feeling of his arms encasing her in his warmth and his hand burning a brand on her belly was enough to distract her of any discomforts, including the one between her thighs courtesy of the man holding her.

They settled just before night fell, bringing up the tents and setting up fires. Sansa helped wherever she could, keeping Ghost with her as per Jon’s request while she walked about the camp. She kept her distance from Harry and Lothor though she also kept them in her sights as well. Sansa hoped Jon had spoken to some of his men about them, the Northern men and wildlings. She didn’t trust them, and they made her warily, their presence unsettling for her.

Her tent was placed beside Jon’s as usual though she most likely would not be sleeping there tonight, or any nights that they were left camping out. The thought made her smile, warming her chest to help keep away the cold.

She ate little and took her leave to her tent to wait for Jon to come get her. She didn’t wait long either. Jon poked his head through her tent flap, his dark eyes drawing her in and without a word said between them, she followed him out of the tent. Ghost moved to situate himself near the entrance to his tent.

As soon as Sansa entered his tent, Jon turned to her, pulling her into his arms and waiting lips. The kiss was all consuming, devouring her mouth and plundering it for himself. It was a fight to get their clothes off, Sansa struggled to reach the ties behind her back and had to keep Jon from ripping another shirt, she could only mend so many.

Once Jon had ridded them of their clothes, he tugged her back to his bed, bringing her to straddle his legs as he situated himself back on the furs to take in her form above him. “Do you know how hard it is to ride with you in front of me? How hard it is to not stop, brace you against a tree and take you in front of everyone? Do you?” Jon questioned as his hands trailed up and down her sides.

Sansa could feel herself grow wet at his words, imagining just that. Jon in his immense arousal stopping their trek to pull her off her horse. He’d be so impatient too. Placing her hands against the bark of a tree, leaning forward so he may tug her skirts up over her bottom for all to see. She could almost feel the sensations she would have felt during it all, including when Jon would tug her smallclothes down to her knees. She wondered if he would play with her first, show the men what they couldn’t have before sinking his cock into her, claiming her fast and hard.

A moan left her lips at the thought. Sansa reached to her sides to drag his hands up to her breasts, directing his fingers to enclose his index and thumbs around her nipples. The tugging and pulling on her nipples were tantalizing, bringing a rush of pain and pleasure that only increased her own arousal. “You like that?” Jon asked, pinching his fingers just a little harder to gain a gasp and groan mixed together.

She nodded at his question, holding his hands up to her chest so he would not think to take them away. “Tell me, tell me how you like it, Sansa.”

Sansa whined, her face coloring at the thought of voicing her naughty thoughts to him, but when his fingers slacked, she obliged, “I love it when you pinch my nipples. I love it when you tug on them and make them red and big and swollen.”

Jon was pleased by her words, applying pressure to her nipples until they ached and when he released them a sweet sense of relief came over her that seemed to fog her brain and made any more of his touches to her nipples that much sweeter. It was even better when he closed his lips around her swollen nipple, flicking his tongue a few times before enclosing his teeth around the tighten bud to give it the same type of pinch as his fingers but rougher, so much rougher.

By the time Jon fell back to his furs, her breasts were reddened from his beard, her nipples hard, dark red with teeth marks marring the sensitive skin and poking out so much, Sansa wondered if they’d ever relax to a flatten state again. She reached up to touch the sensitive bud with her thumb, humming at the zing of pleasure and pain that resulted from her touch.

Jon’s thighs were soaked in her slick while her nub was throbbing for some type of relief. Begging for a touch, but not just anybody’s touch; Jon’s touch. Sansa slid up his thighs, finding it easy due to her wetness until his harden cock touched her abdomen. Looking down, she eyed the thick rod, reaching to touch the soft skin hiding the harden muscle of his cock, pressing it against her skin. She could see how long he was, only a few inches below her belly button, but oh so thick, as thick as her wrist, she thought.

“What do you want?” Jon inquired quietly, leaned back against his pillow while observing her. His eyes were so dark, his hair pulled free and his chest still darkly marred by scars. He could very well be the Stranger incarnate, here to corrupt her soul and honestly, Sansa would enjoy every last bit of his corruption.

“I rode with you today, now let me ride you like I dreamed about during our trek,” Sansa stated huskily, biting down on her lip as she flicked one of her swollen nipples while dancing her fingers upon his cock. She must paint a pretty picture because Jon growled his pleasure at the sight, nodding his dark head in agreement.

“Ride me then,” he declared.

Sansa moved to brace her weight on her knees, scooting forward to get above his cock though she still had to maneuver it to the entrance of her cunt. For a good minute she coated his cock with her slick, teasing the head through her folds and up to her nub to give it a kiss or two. Her eyes stayed on Jon’s the entire time while his stayed on hers. Once her legs started to quiver from holding her weight did she finally press his cock’s head at her entrance.

The slide down his cock was a mixture of pain and pleasure. Her cunt fluttered and ached as his thickness filled her up again, forcing her walls to extend and hold him snug. Her legs ached as well, both from holding her weight and from their coupling only the other day mixed with riding. The ache was a delicious mix though, seeming to heighten her pleasure in a way Sansa had never felt before or ever knew could be. She never thought she’d like the aching feeling, had always thought that she’d want her sex to be slow and lovely, true love-making and yet…

It was love-making between them, but a harsher version, a darker version. One that seemed to match the changes in them. One that fitted them perfectly; completely.

Sansa took her time this go around, allowing herself the moment to enjoy the feeling of being completely full that was not given to her by Jon’s frantic and hard love-making of yesterday. She hadn’t minded though, honestly, she loved the hard pounding of his hips and the possessive way he took her for his own. She wouldn’t have it any other way but having the time to truly engage in the feeling of him inside her was nice too.

Jon let her do as she pleased, merely stayed reclined back and placed his large, heavy hands on her hips. All that impatience gone as he gave up control to her. Sansa relished that control, taking her time as she moved her hips around to see what sensations she could produce for them both. She found that if she leaned forward his cock slid against the back of her cunt and if she leaned backwards it slid against the front.

She found leaning back the best though because his cock touched something inside her, a sensitive muscle that she couldn’t possibly reach with her fingers but that reacted much like a touch to her nub or when her nipples were perfectly swollen. Sansa then moved, leaning a bit back as she tried to find her rhythm and get his cock to touch that spot again.

When she whined in annoyance, Jon jumped in bringing up his knees to support her bottom better then he reached for her hands, intertwining their fingers intimately and also to support her shift in weigh backwards. Before long Sansa was bouncing upon his cock, gasping and shaking, barely able to produce a moan much less a full comprehended word as his cock beat against that sensitive muscle. It was all sensation with her movements, increasing in speed as he angled his hips just right to thrust up and meet her downward thrust, so he may pound against that spot of hers.

Sansa wondered if she was foaming at the mouth, the pleasure of their joining was reducing her to nothing but a simpleton now, but Jon seemed to like it, watching her find her ultimate pleasure on his cock, riding him harder and harder. Jon fought with her for a moment to release one of his hands, replacing her spare hand on her breast to encourage her to pinch her own nipple. Her eyes were closed to the world, shaking all over as she relished her pleasure. The touch of Jon’s thumb directly on her nub increased her pleasure, forcing it out from under the hood to torture the bundled flesh with his rough calloused skin.

She barely managed to cover her mouth with her free hand before the explosion of her peak came over her. It was too much, too much pleasure and too much pain. Sansa quaked and quivered, her center of balance completely off as she embraced the bright flashes of lights in her eyes. It kept going though, Jon kept her peaking, forcing her to take in her pleasure like never before. She could hear his groaning as he neared his peak as well.

Sansa felt like she was peeing as she came down from the intense climax, she opened her eyes to see Jon still manipulating her nub that was so sensitive that it mostly hurt, but she watched in amazement as her body squirted her wetness out, causing more zings of pleasure running through her while drenching Jon in her wetness.

By the time Jon had reached his peak, his furs were completely soaked in Sansa’s slick, his body was a mixture of her juices and his sweat. Sansa felt her face grow hot from embarrassment, the slick on her thighs and where they connected growing rapidly cold. She felt foggy and slightly confused as she asked, “Did I pee?”

“No,” Jon answered, lightly running his fingers through the slick on his belly. “No, you peaked hard; very, very hard.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, reaching down to touch the liquid on his skin as well. “I liked it,” she added, feeling suddenly shy. She glanced up to see Jon smirking at her, a wolfish grin if there ever was one.

“I liked it too.”…

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The battle was rather quick by most standards. The Boltons had many men, but with the Vale on their side it gave them the better advantage. Sansa had stayed with Ghost and the women who were not fit to fight, watching up on a hill as the battle ensued. She didn’t like seeing all the death down there, not so much because blood made her queasy, it didn’t, but because it was good men losing their lives. Though it was for a good cause and because Ramsey Bolton was insane, as she had heard, he murdered his father and step-mother and brother without so much as blinking an eye.

He also murdered her little brother, Rickon.

Sansa cried for the loss of him, but only on the inside, he was nothing but innocence in all this and lost his life for it. She had barely seen him before he was decapitated at Ramsey’s call. She hadn’t missed the way Jon charged forward without his men, though it was a stupid move, she understood the emotions going through him.

But the battle ended quickly enough, resulting in loss on both ends yet they had won Winterfell back. Sansa rushed through the battle field, searching for Jon as she went. When she came across him, she all but flung herself into his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as he grunted her name before holding her just as tightly to him. Sansa knew there was muck, blood and heavens knows what else being transferred onto her dress and skin, but she didn’t much care either way, only Jon. He was the only thing that mattered.

Though she wished to kiss his lips, she settled for his dirty cheek and as they held each other, the emotions of what happened, and the losses came over her, resulting in Jon comforting her. His deep voice with it’s northern accent mumbling sweet words into her ear, soothing the pain inside her. She couldn’t wait for him to take her to bed that night.

Unfortunately, Harry Hardyng was alive with a few of his men including Lothor. Sansa wished to send them away as soon as possible, but it was impolite to do so right after a battle, so she would endure their presence for the time being. It was only mid-day and there was much to do at Winterfell, replacing all of the Boltons’ sigils wherever they may lay like the bannisters of the battlements and the Great Hall.

Sansa retraced her steps throughout Winterfell, images of her past coming forth as she remembered so many things. It was hardest when she came upon the Lord’s chambers, her father’s chambers. The furniture was still the same, the furs even looked the same. Sansa turned to the door, almost expecting her father to come in and inquire why she was here, if she needed something. It was even worst in her mother’s chambers. The rest of her families’ chambers were changed about, Robb’s was utterly destroyed, like whomever did it had a grudge to hold against him.

She visited her old chambers last.

It looked unused, with many of her old belongings still littered about. It was a rather small room, near the back of the keep. To most it would be an undesirable location, but Sansa loved it because it over looked the courtyard and when the sun hit it just right in the afternoon, it gave the room a brilliant glow.

“Nothing like retracing old memories,” Jon said at the door, startling her. Sansa turned to him with a small smile, her emotions still raw from this morning.

“Yes, something like that. Have you checked your old chambers?” Jon shrugged, his eyes following her steadily. It was the heat in them that told her why he was here. He must have just come from a bath as his hair was loose and wet.

“You know,” Jon started, strolling into the room and allowing the door to shut. “I always thought you were radiant, beautiful…lovely.” Sansa felt her cheeks heat up at his words, her heart racing quickly inside her chest.

“Truly?”

“Aye,” he agreed, walking over to her dresser to look over some left behind contents that she felt she did not need at the capital. “I used to have dreams, dreams that scared me and I avoided acknowledging at all costs.”

“What kind of dreams?” she asked once more, moving to come to his side. Her skin was feeling tingly and the air around them was thickening, like lightning was ready to strike. Jon turned to her, regarding her for a moment, his eyes so dark and heated. She felt scorched just by being sighted from them.

“The kind that brothers should not have of their sisters,” he answered slowly, gauging her reaction. Sansa felt her breath hitch then she was licking her oh so dry bottom lip before a smile lifted the corners of her lips up.

“Like what?” she continued to ask. Jon slowly smirked, turning to her fully as his eyes dragged down her frame, taking in her dirty dress that she had yet to change out of. She was much too busy recollecting old memories to think of changing.

“I dreamt of kissing your sweet, red lips, tasting the lemon cakes that you had just ate.” Jon glanced between her eyes and lips before leaning towards her, pressing a soft kiss there. He pulled back to continue, “I dreamt of touching you, caressing your flowering teats.” Sansa swallowed hard at his words, biting down on her lips as he followed through with his words.

His hands came up to caress the tops of her breasts then he grasped them through the fabric, kneading the flesh and drawing a moan from her throat, out through her lips. “I dreamt of suckling them like a babe would for milk.” Jon lifted his fingers to the edges of her dress, glancing at her eyes once more before ripping the dress right down the middle, right between her heaving breasts. He even ripped her shift then proceeded to pull her breasts completely free to his gaze.

His thumbs came up to circle and flick over her quickly hardening nipples, caressing the areoles as the skin crinkled in the cool air. Jon manipulated her nipples, pressing against the hard bud then pinching them. Sansa gasped and whimpered at his touch, imaging the types of dreams he had when they were here and young. She knew she was developing faster than most girls her age, her breasts filling out so quickly that her dresses had to be altered numerous times each fortnight or so. She went from flat chested to having breasts in a matter of moons.

Jon turned her to lean back against her childhood dresser as he closed his lips around a nipple, flicking his tongue against it repeatedly. The attention he was giving her breasts was intoxicating, Sansa loved the difference in his attention now, softer and gentler than before. Each touch, flick, lick and suck sent jolts of pleasure through her body, ending right between her thighs. Her hands moved from their prone position at her sides to slide around his shoulders and card through his drying hair. The sharp pain of his teeth closing around her nipple made her cry out and the tug he gave as he pulled the nipple back from her breast was even more of a delicious pleasurable torture.

“I dreamt of taking your maidenhead, right here, in these chambers,” Jon admitted darkly, rubbing her wet and redden nipple with his thumb as she soaked in his words.

“I was eleven, Jon,” Sansa gasped at the thought though that didn’t stop the throbbing of her cunt. His dark dreams that he tried to ignore, she wondered if he tried reasoning with why he felt that way towards her. She tried reasoning with herself before that night, trying to tell herself that she was just feeling gratitude for him coming to her and saving her.

Yet here she was.

“And I was fourteen with raging hormones and only my hand to keep them at bay.” Sansa drew him up to her lips, kissing him softly.

“Well you took my maidenhead, but not in these chambers,” she remarked as a devilish smirk came to her lips. Jon mirrored her smirk with one of his own, darker and more entrancing than hers, she thought.

They devoured each other, mouths fused together and tongues battling for dominance; Jon always won. Sansa shrugged off her dress and shift, pooling the fabric around her feet before helping Jon work at his own clothing. She removed her smallclothes to spare them from being ruined at his hands like her clothes then she pulled him to her bed, much too small for both of their grown bodies, but they tried still.

Sansa got on her back, bringing Jon to crawl over her. “How did you take me, in your dreams?” Sansa questioned breathlessly, smoothing her legs up and down the backs of his as he hovered above her.

“Too many ways to count, but my favorite was this.” Jon maneuvered her legs until they were placed over his shoulders, forcing her wide and open to his eyes and placing her in a very vulnerable position.

“Why this position?”

“Theon,” he mumbled heatedly, his eyes darkening at the mention of the man. “He used to say this was the best way to fuck a woman, you can thrust deep inside her cunt and he said there was spot inside her that your cock hits, that same spot you found riding me.”

“Oh yes,” Sansa mumbled in remembrance, reaching down to stroke his hard cock she wondered if they should continue like this. The last time they had coupled, and his cock stroked that part of her, she became foggy and confused, overwhelmed by her pleasure, she was practically useless for the rest of the night.

“Aye.”

Jon let her stroke his cock for a few pumps then he was pushing inside her. Her legs kept him held up while pinning her in place as his hands dug into her feather mattress to hold him from completely weighing her down then he started pulling back out. Sansa sighed at the pleasant drag of his cock on her inner walls, moaning her approval when he came back to push inside her again. She didn’t really feel much different than the other positions they tried, but Jon seemed to be testing the waters.

It didn’t take long for him to start pounding into her where she felt his cock jabbing that sensitive muscle once more. The thought of him bringing her to her peak so harshly as before, filling her childhood bed with her slick only aroused her more. Sansa vaguely wondered what was wrong with her? Why she thought such things were enticing, were they because of Jon, or were they because of the things she went through and the things Petyr had done to her? She hadn’t even flowered when Jon was having dreams of fucking her and yet that made her hotter than normal rather than repulsed and scared.

Maybe it was a mixture, maybe she was messed up in the head, maybe they both were. It didn’t matter though, as long as she had Jon with her, loving her, caring for her, fucking her then she wouldn’t put much thought into anything else.

Sansa moaned as Jon fucked her into her mattress, pumping his hips and making sure to lean back in a way that forced his cock’s head to slam against that spot and drive her closer and closer to peaking. She could almost imagine her family still walking throughout the keep, having to keep quiet as they found their pleasure together in such sinful ways. Sansa could almost hear running down the hall, Rickon and Bran perhaps? Her mother shouting at them to roughhouse outside in the courtyard.

It was a strange feeling in her chest, to feel so sad yet feeling immense pleasure at the same time. Jon brought a hand down to thumb her nub, pressing down hard and flicking the poor bundled flesh about before she was squirting like before, her slick shooting upward and this time covering her in her wetness. Sansa bit down on her lip to keep her moans of pleasure in, her peak coming upon her so quickly and extending for long periods as Jon continued to force her into her pleasure.

Jon groaned his pleasure, ever watchful with those dark eyes. Closing his index and thumb around her nub to pinch out more pleasure and pain. Sansa cried out, immediately covering her mouth as he got a second peak out of her. His hips never stopped their pounding, her fluttering walls closing in on him in hopes of locking his cock into place and sucking his release out of him.

He growled out her name and the feeling of warmth in her abdomen told her he reached his peak. It took some moving about before Jon got comfortable behind her body, cradling her to his chest on her far too small bed of her childhood chambers. It took several minutes before she could speak, focusing her thoughts together to create coherent words.

“Do you…do you think this would have happened had we never left?” Sansa finally voiced, cuddling back into his chest. Her mattress was incredibly damp, her slick soaking through the feathers of the mattress.

“I don’t know…maybe…I know I would have still wanted you, regardless,” Jon answered honestly, pressing a kiss to her temple. Sansa pursed her lips together, hating how she knew she probably wouldn’t have, she’d be more normal, less tarnished by trauma and would never seek solace in Jon’s arms. “I don’t think I would ever have tried anything, not unless I knew you wanted me.”

Sansa thought back to her childhood, thinking about how she hadn’t given Jon much of her time. She followed too closely to her mother, but she hadn’t been as mean as she first perceived. Recollecting memories brought the remembrance that she had been kind to Jon, trying to be the perfect lady and help her bastard, half-brother as a good lady should. The more she thought about her childhood, the more she had realized, subconsciously, that she may have liked Jon more than she should.

Waymar Royce, she could vaguely remember what her old crush looked like, but the best she can remember was that he had grey eyes and dark hair, just like Jon’s. She had never thought about golden princes before hearing of Robert Baratheon coming to Winterfell, before then she had been all about dark hair and eyes. Her best friend at the time, Jeyne Poole, had stated that her mother said girls were always attracted to men that were similar to their fathers, the man a girl first loves before any others. And Jon had been the only son to look like her father…

“Maybe I would have…”…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where the whole underage wanting to fuck you came from, I literally just started writing and that came forth. I hope I didn't make anyone uncomfortable and if I did, I am sorry, but this is a darker Jon and even a darker Sansa so... 
> 
> Harry is here! What is he doing here and what does he want?? I am finishing up the third chapter and hopefully y'all will find out tomorrow or so! Please let me know whatcha think?! ^_~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, next chapter! So, I got caught up writing 'The Sacrifice', but I had most of this chapter finished, just needed to write some actions with the dialogue and that lovely smut I tend to add, lol. I am quite happy with how this chapter came out, my only issue is that I don't like what I thought up for the final chapter, so I need to revise and figure that out, hopefully that can be done and posted by Monday? Maybe sooner, I hope.
> 
> Enjoy! ^_~

 

 

A moon had went by since they had succeeded in battle against the Boltons, a moon full of preparation, repairs and amends. A moon of Jon being King in the North and Sansa, Lady of Winterfell, and a full moon of her and Jon making love whenever they can. They had to be secretive, making sure no one noticed he had not been staying in his chambers at all during the night.

He had given Sansa the lord’s chambers, being as she was the trueborn daughter of Ned Stark and the Stark of Winterfell. She was grateful for the consideration, especially since her mother’s old chambers was almost oppressively hot and her old chambers was much too small for a woman grown.

Times were good thus far and many men of the North had come to treat with Jon, showing him the respect that his title demanded, and Sansa believed he deserved. Though the Karstarks and Umbers were forgiven and bent the knee as did the other houses who had not been there when they were needed, the only group of people she worried about was Harry and his men from the Vale. They hadn’t done anything outright to be suspicious, but she knew many of those men had loyalty to Littlefinger and were questionable at best. Jon had them watched by his most loyal men, but that didn’t stop her worry.

Harry also did not keep his distance either. Too many times she’d find herself in his unwanted company when she was not around Jon. Sansa heard through rumors that he and a few others were thinking of asking Jon for her hand. Jon, of course, was not amused and with Cersei on the throne in the South, dragons flying in the East and white walkers beyond the wall further North; marriage proposals were the last thing on his mind, if at all. There were nights that the world seemed to lay so heavily upon his shoulders and he seemed to only find solace when having her on her back and her legs in the air.

That reminded Sansa, she smiled, rubbing her flat belly. She had yet to have her moon’s blood, it was running later than ever before, and it could be caused by stress, but she was thinking perhaps it may be due to a possible pregnancy. It brought excitement but also fear. It was one thing to want a child with Jon, but to follow through was dangerous. Not only for their circumstances, but also with the wars ready to brew and the marriage she had with Tyrion still acknowledged and sound. Still, she couldn’t wait to tell Jon, knowing he will be shocked, but happy and most pleased.

Sansa visited the Maester’s chambers to see the letters that have arrived that day. She greeted the old man, looking through the scrolls before her eyes located one with the sigil for House Arryn. A sense of foreboding came over her as she stared down the letter, much bigger than a scroll. A hand came forward to take hold of it, drawing her stare to Lothor who looked back with narrowed eyes. The whole exchange left a bitter taste in her mouth and a curdling in her stomach.

“Maester,” Sansa started, waiting until Lothor had left the room to continue, “has Lord Hardyng been receiving a lot of mail?”

The old man looked up from his writing, brow wrinkled in thought. “No, my lady, not until today.”

Sansa thanked him, peering quickly over the others before leaving. She tried to get her mind off of the letter by inspecting the repairs being made to the glass gardens where she found Jon doing much the same. He gave her a small smile though his eyes were dark as they watched her roam the area. Little bumps littered her arms at the feel of his darken gaze on her, it made a flutter erupt in her belly, like a bird taking flight for the first time. It was always like this whenever they saw each other during the day.

Jon and his careful gaze upon her; ever watchful. Sansa craved his eyes on her, like an addiction, she couldn’t get through her day without them. Cersei had her wine, Littlefinger had his mind games and Sansa had the shadow of Jon’s being watching over her. Addicting and all encompassing. She glanced over her shoulder to witness his eyes, sending tendrils of pleasure through her nerves at the sight. Sansa turned away with a secretive smile on her lips.

“You seem rather happy, my lady.” Immediately her smile evaporated, like steam in the air as her gaze settled on Harry. “But then, you always seem happy when your brother is watching you,” Harry remarked somewhat snidely, looking over her shoulder briefly to see Jon. She could only imagine the way his eyes darkened further at Harry’s approach.

“Was there a point to this, my lord? For I am quite busy,” Sansa grinded out, her once happy flutters dying limply in her stomach.

“Yes, actually. I came to request a private supper between us in your solar.” Sansa crossed her arms, not liking his words or the way he was looking at her now.

“And if I were to deny this request?” Sansa inquired, that same foreboding feeling was coming back with a vengeance.

“You won’t, it regards our future,” he stated almost charmingly, if not for the arch of his brow and toothy smirk to accent his arrogance.

“What do you mean ‘our future’?” Sansa dug her nails into her arms as she awaited an answer. Harry merely shrugged as though it was of no consequence to him.

“Accept my request and you will find out at supper.” Though she’d much rather not, she had no choice but to accept. Whatever it was that he knew was making him cocky and very self-assured and that did not bode well for her.

“Alright, I…accept,” she conceded reluctantly, already regretting her decision and how Jon would take it. His eyes were burning a trail down her back, she could only imagine the way they darkened, most likely in anger rather than lust.

“Marvelous! I will see you in your solar at supper.” Harry gave a little bow before walking away in a happier mood than he left her in. Sansa bit the inside of her mouth as she watched him, her heart took an anxious beat as she thought about what could possibly make him happy like that. There were few options and it worried her deeply that she was somehow included in those options.

“What was that about?” Jon asked, suddenly appearing by her side, his tone dark and gruff. She looked to see him staring down Harry’s retreating form. If looks could kill, she mused.

“He was requesting for a private supper in my solar with me,” Sansa replied as apprehension made her tense. She knew he was not going to like that.

“No, absolutely not!” Jon growled, turning to set his dark gaze on her once more. Anger pinched his face, making him look feral, like an animal, like a direwolf and he looked ready to attack. Would it be to attack Harry in anger or her in lust?

“It’s too late, I’ve already accepted.” Jon’s shoulders tensed up and she was sure the rumbling in his chest was growling.

“Sansa…”

“What do you want me to do, Jon?” Sansa asked, exasperated. “He was cryptic upon requesting, stating it regarded ‘our future’?”

“He wishes to wed you,” Jon stated darkly, she glanced down to see his hands curled into tight fists. Sansa stepped closer to him, placing a gentle hand upon his hard fist.

“He can’t, not while my marriage to Tyrion still stands.” Smoothly, she coxed his hand to open and replaced his clenched fingers with her own, intertwining them in hopes of easing his anger. “And there’s only one man I want, only one worthy of me and that’s you.” His eyes bore into hers before running down her body to take in their clasped hands.

“I don’t like this, Sansa,” he bit out grumpily, flexing his fingers around hers.

“I know, and neither do I, but he’s confident about something and we need to know why.” Sansa reached up with her free hand to press against his leather-bound chest, thumbing a button as the thought of him forcing her on all fours to take her came over her mind. She clenched her thighs together in an effort to keep her wants at bay.

Tonight, she reminded herself, after her horrible supper with Harry then he’ll come and take me anyway I want him too. The thought brought a pleasant sweetness through her body though it did nothing to stifle the throbbing between her legs.

“I will be near by then, I won’t leave you alone with him long,” Jon vowed, leaning into her to brush a kiss at her temple. Instantly she was warmed by his kiss, bringing back that sense of peace that Harry’s presence interrupted.

“Thank you…”

\-----------------------------------------

Sansa would never admit it out loud, but she was nervous. Ghost was out in the wolfwoods and though Jon went out to call him back, he had yet to appear. Still Jon walked her to her solar, giving her an encouraging kiss behind closed doors that seemed to only make it harder for her to let him go before leaving to his solar directly next door. “If anything happens start shouting, I’ll hear through the wall,” Jon declared solemnly, looking less than happy to leave her alone with Harry.

Truly that did nothing to calm her nerves. “Everything will be alright, he won’t do anything.” She wondered how assured Jon was of her words because they did nothing for her.

Being left to her own devices, Sansa looked over the grain count for winter then the flow of coin that would be invested in the many repairs that the Boltons had barely started upon. There was a point in Sansa’s life where she was horrible at numbers and calculations seemed beyond her, but if nothing else good came out of her time in Petyr’s presence then a better astute understanding of numbers was the only good thing to be had. Numbers, at times, were better to understand than people.

The busy work Sansa gave herself helped eat away the afternoon and before she knew it, there was a knock at her door, servants entered to place her supper upon the table as she cleared it of her work. The food smelled delicious, but the fact that she would be sharing a meal with Harry kept her from fully enjoying the smells. The moment the servants left, Harry bounded up to her door.

His hair was recently washed, and he smelled heavily of oiled perfumes that tickled her nose and choked the air from her lungs. She much preferred Jon’s woodsy smell with the leather and steel undertone and the heady scent of death. It was a subtle fragrance and one that made her wet at a mere whiff of it. In comparison, Harry made her want to sneeze and cough violently.

“Good evening, Lady Stark.” Harry had a somewhat deep voice, not as deep as Jon’s though and the way he tried to thicken his tone amused her endlessly. He was even dressed similar to Jon, with dark leather and black breeches. Is he trying to appease to me, she wondered?

“And you, Lord Hardyng.” He looked her over briefly, turning his sights to the food next though she didn’t miss the flash of disappointment at her unchanged attire.

“The food looks great,” Harry started then launched into a mostly one-sided conversation about his day while Sansa tried to seem at least a little attentive.

Sansa was sure the food was delicious, but she tasted nothing as she forced fed bite after bite. After a few minutes of his nonstop chattering, she broke in quickly.

“If you’re quite finished, I am done with these false pleasantries and would like to get to the point of this meeting,” Sansa said with an absentmindedly wave.

“I was only trying to break the ice and make things a little pleasant between us,” Harry commented, frowning gravely at her.

“If I wanted your company for mindless prattle then I would ask for it.” Sansa primly set down her fork, pushing away her plate to indicate how done she was with these pretenses.

Harry sighed with a shake of his head. “Well, you better get use to this, my lady because we will be spending the rest of our lives together.” There was a sudden clamping in her gut as her eyes narrowed into a glare.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Let me say this plainly then, Sansa Stark. Before I left the Eyrie, Petyr Baelish had written up the betrothal contract between us. I, Harrold Hardyng and you as Sansa Stark of Winterfell.” Sansa’s fingers started to dig into the wood of the table.

“But as I’ve said a time before, my marriage to Tyrion Lannister still stands,” she reiterated, finding no satisfaction in her repeated words as he openly smirked.

“Why yes, that is quite an obstacle to climb over, but that is also why I was sent away. You see, Petyr Baelish had me and his men go to the Citadel to procure a letter of annulment for the unconsummation of the marriage between Tyrion Lannister and Sansa Stark,” Harry concluded as he leaned back in his chair, so pleased with himself.

“Petyr was not my father! He cannot broker a betrothal between us!” Sansa grounded out, anger and fear warring inside her gut to the point that she felt ready to throw up.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “No, he wasn’t, but you were his ward and can dictate whom you can and will marry.” Sansa immediately shook her head.

“Not anymore! Not with Jon, king!” she declared loudly, her nails digging further into the wood of the table. Her heart was thundering inside her chest and fear was welling up in her gut.

“Ah yes, your brother or should I say bastard, half-brother? He was not instated before the contract was written, so he cannot break it so easily,” Harry stated with a wave of his hand, bringing his hands up to fold them together as he watched her in amusement.

“Yes, he can! He would never allow this betrothal or marriage to happen.” The thought of marrying Harry was making her physically ill, not to mention making her want to flip the whole table in anger. She had thought Littlefinger was killed well before anything could happen, he had told her they were still in talks of a betrothal, but of course, Petyr hadn’t given her the full truth and now it was being laid before her.

“Then he’ll lose the Vale army.” Harry shrugged again, lips pressed together to keep from smiling broadly. She blinked in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” Lose the Vale army? Sweetrobin didn’t like Harry as much as he liked her, actually he couldn’t stand Harry because he knew what his cousin would be if he died. Her little cousin would listen to her before ever listening to Harry, so how would they lose the Vale army?

“Oh? You haven’t heard?” Harry asked in false shock, he was a poor actor, she thought. “Our poor Sweetrobin passed away in his sleep a week earlier.” Her stomach clenched painfully as acid rolled up her throat, burning as comprehension came over her. “You may now call me, Harrold Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie and Lord Protector of the Vale, and your betroth.”

“No!” Sansa yelled, pushing back from the table in absolute shock.

“Yes,” he answered calmly, smirk fully in place as he took in her panicked features.

“You had him killed then! Petyr was slowly poisoning him with sweetsleep!” she quickly declared, clawing her fingers through her skirts. Her heart was pounding inside her head, rushing through her ears as she tried to come to terms with everything that was happening.

“And didn’t Petyr pay for his crimes already? Can’t hang a dead man twice.” The look of success lightened his features. Harry looked as though he had just won the game of thrones and perhaps he had, Sansa thought. He had her at every turn, catching every angle and twisting the game into his favor.

She was trapped.

“I won’t marry you,” Sansa asserted, pushing back her chair to stand then adding, “You can’t make me.”

Harry followed her lead, pushing back to stand as well. “If your precious brother wants the help of the Vale then you will,” he declared heatedly, eyes narrowing. Tension formed in her shoulders, the sense of feeling utterly trapped came over her. No, she would not be locked into a cage once more!

“Go to hell!” Sansa moved swiftly around the table towards the door. She needed to get to Jon, she needed Jon now!

Harry moved quicker though, grabbing her arm to whip her back towards him. “You need to come to terms with this, Sansa. It’s me and you and no one else!”

Sansa yelled, “no,” then turned back to him, slapping him sharply across the face with her nails. Harry hissed in pain and with a grab of her shoulders he flung her backwards into the door and all Sansa remembered was the pain of the wood clacking against her skull before it all went dark.

Harry caught her though, ricocheting off the wooden door and into his waiting arms. Her body gone limp in unconsciousness, he quickly picked her up in his arms, walking calmly through her solar towards the connecting door of her bedchambers. Sansa moaned painfully, her consciousness coming back slowly as she felt her soft furs underneath her body. She heard Harry mumbling to himself, moving about her chambers before feeling a dip in her bed.

She opened her eyes when she felt the front lacing of her dress being fumbled with. Harry was leaning over her side, undoing the ties of her dress. “Wh-at are you…doing?” Sansa mumbled, pushing at his hands to get him to stop, but he pushed them away effortlessly.

“When I take your maidenhead then you will have no choice but to marry me,” he insisted before gripping the sides of her dress and ripping them apart. Sansa gasped, reaching up drowsily to make him stop. Her heart slowly picking up in speed as her mind started to focus better.

“Stop, stop,” she repeated but he didn’t heed her words. Harry moved to straddle her legs as she started to struggle more, kicking her legs out. “Stop!” Sansa screamed at the top of her lungs before he placed his hand over her mouth to muffle her screams.

The crash of the door hitting stone wall echoed outside her bedchamber before another loud hit came to her bedchamber door. Sansa glanced over to see it was barred shut. “JON!” Sansa screamed through Harry’s fingers. Looking at her nightstand, she quickly grabbed the candleholder, whacking him on the side of his head as hard as she could. She screamed again while trying to push him off her body.

The door burst open, wood splintering from the force as Jon appeared in the doorway. For a moment Sansa thought she was looking at a devil with his dark hair loose around his head, tense shoulders and so very dark eyes. Even the air around him was oozing an aura of darkness and rage as Jon bared his teeth at the scene before him. Harry turned just has Jon reached them, grabbing the other man by his throat and physically lifting him off Sansa and the bed then tossing him like a ragdoll into the stone wall where Harry slumped to the ground, groaning in pain.

“Jon,” Sansa cried out, sitting up before he was upon her, brushing away her hair from her face as he looked her over for signs of injury. “Jon…Sweetrobin’s dead! Harry’s heir to the Eyrie and-and-and h-e,” Sansa choked on her words, barely stringing a sentence together as he held her to his chest, letting her cry into his leather jerkin. She noticed he was also wearing longclaw as well.

“Tell me, Sansa,” Jon muttered into her ear, brushing his sweet lips against it as he spoke. She shuddered at his touch, whining at the adrenaline still raging through her being.

“He-He has papers! Jon, he has a contract for our betrothal from Petyr! If you don’t agree to a marriage he’ll take the Vale army away!” Sansa grasped at his jerkin, clawing her nails to find purchase as she chased after his warmth.

“Then let him, he can’t have you,” Jon announced harshly, pulling her more into his arms while rubbing his hands up and down her back in soothing caresses.

“No! You need them, we can’t lose any more men,” Sansa wailed as the sounds of her cage were slowly closing on her. She had thought that Jon was her salvation, the one man to save her from being forever caged away by the men who wish to use her for her title and home, but yet again, she was outmaneuvered and forced back into another corner.

“I don’t care, Sansa. I won’t let any man have you! You’re mine, remember! All mine!” Jon exhaled shakily, his fingers stopped moving to grip tightly into the back of her torn dress.

“I can’t, Jon, please I can’t let you die again.” Yet she couldn’t do another marriage to another man wanting to exploit her for her body and home. I can’t do it again, I can’t live in a cage again, she thought brokenly, wishing she could marry Jon and stay with him forever. Wishing to live their shared dream of happiness, love and so many children to replace their missing siblings, she wanted it so badly…

Jon pulled her back from his chest, wiping away her tears from her wet cheeks as his gaze burned into hers. He leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead, dragging them down the length of her nose then to the side to kiss a wet cheek. Sansa shuddered at his gentle kisses, embracing his hold on her neck with her hand while palming a bearded cheek with her other. Jon breathed her in, rubbing his nose against hers in a wolf kiss that made her choke at how intimate it was then his lips pressed against hers, soothing the raging rapids inside her chest and bringing that sense of peace and warmth that she could only find in his arms and lips.

“My Gods…you incestuous whore!” Harry yelled in disgust, forcing Jon to wrench himself from her lips. Sansa called his name softly, moving to stand as well and before she could react, he pulled longclaw from his sheath swiftly. “You both will burn in all Seven hells!” Jon growled deeply in his chest and thrusted his sword forward so hard that the tip imbedded into the stone behind Harry’s chest where it plunged right through his ribs and heart.

Sansa screamed into her hands as she took in the way the sword stayed put after Jon released it. Her eyes fixed on the point of contact where blood slowly leaked from around the edges of the sword’s blade. She slowly turned to Jon with his tense shoulders, breathing harshly in his rage before he stepped back to sit back on the bed, fisting his hands in the fabric of his breeches as he tried to gain control of his anger, of his burning rage. Sansa glanced between Harry and Jon before stepping back to seat herself beside Jon.

She swallowed thickly, a million thoughts racing through her mind as she realized the implications of Jon killing the heir to the Eyrie and Lord Protector of the Vale. King or not, protecting her virtue or not, it was still a sticky business. He’ll lose the Vale army now, Sansa thought forlornly, tears welling up in her eyes again. It was all quiet in the chambers aside from Jon’s harsh breathing and her shallow gasping.

A touch to her hand brought her attention to Jon. His large, calloused hand closed over top of her smaller, softer hand, squeezing it gently. Sansa wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure her or not, but it did help to feel his touch, to know they had each other. Slowly she drew her gaze up to meet his dark eyes, behind them was still a rage, a blood lust that needed to be sated and Sansa was shocked to feel a similar blood lust reacting to his, stirring underneath her skin and trailing down to the throbbing of her cunt.

“Jon,” Sansa mumbled so softly, so sweetly.

He was on her before she could properly breath. His mouth devoured the whine in her throat, swallowing any words she wished to produce as he snaked his tongue through her soft lips to entangle her tongue. Jon kept her tongue and lips captured by his as he maneuvered them on her bed, caging her with his body, his warmth and protection. Sansa ran her fingers through his hair, crying out when he finally released her lips only to bit and kiss his way down her jawline to the pale expanse of her throat.

His hips rutted forward, pressing his harden erection into her covered cunt, bumping aggressively against her nub. Sansa groaned at the feeling, fighting to get his jerkin off him. Jon had no regard to his clothes, tearing apart his jerkin to fling off his body then his undershirt. Sansa pulled her arms through her dress, rucking up her skirts to her waist and pushing her shift down from her breasts.

Jon dropped to his elbows, pressing his hard and scarred chest into her soft, fleshy breasts. He continued to thrust into her covered cunt, finding pleasure from the friction between them. Sansa directed his biting kisses to her breasts, moaning when he closed his teeth around a barely harden nipple. The harsh pressure burned through her nerves, she needed more, she wanted more. Her fingers joined his mouth, twisting and tugging at her lone nipple to produce the same painfully pleasurable sensation as his teeth had.

Sansa’s free hand found it’s way inside his breeches, palming his hard cock as he rutted into her. It was hardly enough, she needed so much more.

“Harder, Jon, harder and faster,” she mumbled distractedly, crying out when he bit down on her nipple so hard, surely, he had broken the skin and the thought only made it that much more pleasurable for her.

In retaliation, she pressed the tip of her thumb down upon the hole in his cock, digging a bit harder when he growled between pain and pleasure. Jon moved to the underside of her breast to suck a mark before biting hard enough to leave a bruise. Yes, Sansa thought, mark me, show them all I’m yours.

Sansa removed her hands to force his breeches off his body, she wasn’t surprised he had no smallclothes on and he didn’t seem surprised when he finally forced all her skirts up to her waist to find her missing her smallclothes as well. She gave him a wicked smile that twisted into a moan when he pressed his cock against her folds, pushing through her wet skin before thrusting his cock between her cunt’s lips.

Jon took her hard and fast as requested, supporting his body with his planted elbow while digging finger marks into her hip. Sansa jolted with each pounding thrust, moaning her approval as he took her hard. He started mumbling, ‘mine’ repeatedly in her ear as though she could ever forget otherwise. Each reminder made the jolting collision of his cock against her quivering walls that much sweeter. “You belong to me, Sansa,” Jon reminded her, accenting ‘belong’ with a hard pound of his hips.

“Yes,” she agreed, biting down on his shoulder to leave marks of her own.

“Your love is mine, your heart is mine, your breasts, your cunt, everything that is you is mine and no one will ever take that away from me!” he vowed, encouraging her legs to wrap around his hips as he moved his hand off her hip to rub his rough thumb on her nub. “I will kill every single man that wishes to take you from me, I will! You are mine, Sansa! MINE!”

Sansa screamed, ‘yes’ into his ear as she neared her peak. Jon continued his harsh pounding, harder and harder it got and still it was not enough for her. He moved to press soft kisses to the side of her head, pressing his lips to her ear and cheek. It was such a strange balance of hard punishment and soft love, one only someone like Jon could ever produce. Sansa tugged him back, so their noses nuzzled together while their gazes locked upon each other.

“I love you, Jon Snow,” Sansa said gasping as she moved with his thrusts. “And I am having your baby.”

The widening of his eyes, the way his hips stuttered mid-thrust and the appearance of awe in his face made her smile and her chest flutter into lightness. Sansa pressed against his back, urging him to continue, to brand her cunt as his. Jon did not fail her.

The air was thick and heated, the sound of their skin meeting in rapid succession accented that heated air along with the smell of sex and death. Sansa peaked with his name on her lips, clutching his rutting body to hers in hopes that he will never leave her again. The thought of staying connected like this, his cock locked forever inside her cunt came over her and she giggled at the ridiculous thought.

Jon grunted her name into her ear, forcing his cock as deeply in her as possible. She brushed back his hair, so she could stare into his dark eyes, see the love and happiness there that only she could produce in him. We need each other to feel complete, to be complete, she mused.

Together we are complete and death to those who think they can tear us apart…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta say, Harry is one smart mofu in this, ya know aside from being killed by Jon, hahaha. So I totally borrowed the end scene with Sansa and Harry and stuff from the show 'Sons of Anarchy' in the first season, episode 8 where Tara deals with her stalker, psycho ex Josh and Jax kills him in a fit of rage then they have sex with his dead body in the room. As I was thinking of how to conclude the dinner, I thought of that scene and it would not stop bugging me until I wrote it within this story. I think it give the story that darker undertone for Jon, killing someone extremely important in anger (righteous as it was). It's not scene for scene a copy and unfortunately I can't find a clip showing most of it, but here's the end portion where Jax kills Josh, for reference:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MueC6h0575o
> 
> So I hope y'all enjoyed this! I'm hoping to have something figured out for the final chapter, cause really I wrote myself into a corner (intentional as it was) and I'm effy on what I intended to write as the final chapter so...*fingers crossed* by Monday I should have something figured out and written! As for 'The Sacrifice' I am working on the final chapter now that I know how I want to go about that and end it as well (hopefully it stays three chapters) but...I could totally write so much more for that story if I took the time and worked on it, maybe a future project of taking the same concept but stretching it out? We will see. Let me know whatcha think!? ^_~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late posting of the final chapter! I was having real life issues with work (I hate people) and suffering terrible bouts of insomnia which doesn't work well when your shift starts at four am. That being said, I worked on the chapter here and there, and finally got enough sleep to function like a semi-normal human being and thus the creative juices to write this chapter and finish the story! Yay!
> 
> Anywho, sorry to say but this is being posted raw, so expect some mistakes, maybe funny, stupid ones like using 'brothal' instead of 'betrothal', lol. Yeah, that one happened and thank goodness it was pointed out to me too. I hope y'all enjoy the conclusion to my Dark!Jon piece for the event that has been over for like two weeks now, hahaha.
> 
> Enjoy! ^_~

 

 

 

Sansa laid there for a while, basking in the heat of Jon’s body and letting things settle in her mind. She kept her back towards where Harry’s body laid, ignoring it for the time being as she curled into Jon’s body. Still, everything that had taken place kept going through her mind, repeating the conversation with Harry on an endless loop, creating more anxiety inside her. What were they going to do? The feeling of Jon’s fingers running up and down her bare back soothed her anxiousness, allowing her mind to sharpen and shift through everything thus far.

“What are you thinking about, love?” Jon asked softly, dragging the tip of his nose across her forehead towards her temple, his fingers still trailing up and down her back.

“I’m thinking about what needs to be done now,” she answered, dipping her head to curl underneath his chin, nosing the skin of his neck. “We need to get that marriage contract and the annulment papers too. We also need to figure out what to do with Harry.”

“Leave him to me.” Sansa frowned at the closed off tone of his voice.

“What do you plan on doing, Jon?” she questioned, but Jon merely closed a hand around her shoulder, pulling her into his chest further with a sigh. “Jon.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said quietly though his tone was rather short with her and his shoulders tensed up for a moment.

The way he was talking, his tense muscles, Sansa knew that meant he wasn’t going to go about this whole thing the right way. The right way, as if she truly knew what that would be, has anyone actually done anything the right way before? The right way would be getting Davos and stating what happened though possibly an embellished version that would make sense as to why Jon killed Harry especially when he was still collapsed on the ground. The right way would be to discuss the implications and figure out a plan that would border on truth. The right way would also put Jon in a bad lighting with the bannermen and most certainly lose the trust of the Vale and they could not afford that to happen.

Fuck the right way, she thought, no one ever did the right way anyhow.

Eventually Sansa had to get up and change, letting the servants in to clear the left-over food. She appreciated that none asked where Lord Hardyng was, nor looked around enough to notice her bedchamber door looked worse for wear. It would have to be replaced quietly from prying eyes. Once it got quiet again, she headed back into her bedchambers to find Jon dressed and Harry’s body wrapped up in some leftover furs she kept in the bottom drawer of her dresser, longclaw was attached to his hip once more.

“Tell me what you plan to do with his body? Don’t leave me in the dark, Jon,” Sansa pleaded, stepping up to place her hands on his chest and look up into his dark eyes. He stared blankly down at her, contemplating what do to next, she supposed then he sighed defeatedly.

“I’m going to have Tormund and a few wildlings dispose of his body in the wolfwoods. I’ve been told that Lord Hardyng likes to hunt late in the day,” Jon remarked, bringing his hands up to place one on her shoulder and the other on her cheek, swiping his thumb along her cheek bone. “No one will notice he’s missing until tomorrow, by then he’ll have been torn apart by animals.”

Sansa gasped at the idea, but the other part of her wasn’t surprised by what Jon was going to do, nor was she disgusted or shamed. She merely nodded, thinking of excuses and such. Jon leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment before he went to get Tormund. Sansa used that time to use a basin of water and soap to scrub the dried over blood where Harry had sat. It took hard scrubs to get the blood up from the stone flooring, including on the stone wall. She fingered the indented line where longclaw had imbedded into the stone from Jon’s strength alone.

Jon and Tormund came in, the latter giving her a grimace of a smile, eyeing over the place where she scrubbed up blood before lifting the dead body like it weighted nothing. Before they left, Jon came back to her, whispering that once he was back they’d head to Harry’s chambers to find the paperwork then gave her a kiss on the lips. Sansa glanced over to Tormund, he gave her a tight smile though his eyes were soft when watching them then they were gone.

It took some thirty minutes before the stone looked clean, but then Sansa noticed it looked far cleaner than the rest of the flooring, and so she spent an hour wiping and scrubbing the rest of her floor. Paranoia made her clean excessively, then she used whatever strength she had to drag her dresser empty of its drawers across the room to place it against that wall to hide the indent in the stone. Still Sansa felt a buzz inside her though her back ached from bending over and her legs wobbled from use.

By the time Jon came back, Sansa had cleaned the entire bedchamber to immaculate shine. He arched a brow, glancing about the room before zeroing in on her moved dresser. “I could have done that for you,” Jon stated, walking over to wrap his arms around her. Sansa sighed deeply, exhaustion eating away at her bones as she all but collapsed into his arms and chest. “Maybe I should go alone,” he offered.

“No! No, I want to go with you, I need to see the paper with my own eyes,” she asserted, pulling out energy she did not feel. He stared at her for a few seconds then nodded before leading the way.

It was dark out in the halls as they moved as silently as possible. Jon seemed to melt in to the shadows, disappearing in plain sight while Sansa felt like she was being rather clumsy and obvious. It was nearing midnight, so it was easy enough to get through undetected or seen. There was a moment where Jon pulled her into his back, pressing them both against the stone wall as they heard foot steps further down the corridor. Sansa held her breath, squeezing herself against the wall as much as she possibly could. Luckily for them, whomever it was lurking in the halls had taken a turn down another corridor, away from them.

Jon easily picked the lock to Harry’s chambers, ushering Sansa in before shutting them in the darken room. Sansa noticed his hearth was still going though the fire was down to embers at this point. She walked over to his writing desk, lighting one of the candles there to see by before shifting through the paperwork littering the wooden tabletop. Jon snooped around the chambers, she could hear him scoffing at Harry’s clothes and belongings, snorting through his nose in distaste. Though her heart was pounding a mile-a-minute, hearing him still produced a smile on her lips.

Shifting through the papers, she found nothing that she was looking for though she eyed over the expense report he had including the grain count and coin incomes for the Vale. Sansa wasn’t surprised that the Vale was doing exceptionally well money wise, it was only a matter of time though until Petyr’s intentional miscalculations and embezzling was realized. Sansa quickly moved on from the desk, heading towards his bed where a nightstand stood beside it. She opened the drawer, searching through there only to come up empty as well.

A streak of icy fear ran down her spine as she turned towards Jon. “You don’t think he had the papers on him, do you?” she asked quietly, hoping upon hope that they checked his body before leaving him for the creatures of the night.

“No,” Jon answered, walking over towards her. “We checked him over thoroughly before leaving him.”

Sansa nodded, releasing her held breath in relief. It would be absolutely terrible for them if he had the papers on his body when he is eventually found, and only if the papers were legible at that. It would place possible intent on their heads if it had been found on Harry’s dead body, and it would especially look bad because of Jon and Tormund disposing his body as they had. Some of the tension eased off her shoulders, but that didn’t stop the overall anxiety eating away at her being.

She and Jon looked throughout the chambers, every nook and cranny for the papers before she heard a cough from Jon. He had been searching through a chest that Harry had brought with his belongs in it.

Quickly, Sansa headed over, finding Jon had peeled back the lining at the top of the chest to reveal a hidden compartment. It was there they found some papers, but as they looked over them they found that it was only one of two that they needed. They had the marriage contract, but not the annulment papers. Sansa looked over the contract, scoffing at the words Petyr used as he stated she was his ‘ward’ and found the marriage ‘adventurous’ for all parties involved.

Adventurous for whom, she thought irritably, glaring at his and Harry’s signature at the end and how they could go through with this whole ordeal without her consent as well. Her mind conjured up the way Petyr’s head hung limp after his body dropped when his stool was kicked out from under him, how his neck snapped as easily as a twig, ending his life far too quickly for her tastes. Even the way Harry died was still far too quickly, Jon was so swift and strong, slamming his bastard sword into Harry’s chest and heart and keeping him pinned to the stone wall. Sansa hated to admit it, but she was actually starting to feel a bit wet between her thighs.

She handed off the paper to Jon, allowing him to look over the writing with his own eyes and enjoying the anger that resulted, the way his nostrils flared while the rest of his nose scrunched up and the darkening of his eyes. Sansa pressed her thighs together as she gave a shuddering breath that drew his eyes onto her. She pursed her lips inwards before standing up with Jon not too far behind. She listened to him fix up the chest back the way he found it as she moved towards the door.

“Sansa.” She glanced over her shoulder to see Jon stuffing the paper into a small compartment on the inside of his jerkin, all while his eyes remained on her being. “Go to his desk and bend over it,” Jon instructed darkly, his tone sending shivers down her spine and heat expanding in her abdomen.

They didn’t have time for this, she knew, but she still obeyed his wish, knowing in her heart that she wished for it too. Sansa briskly walked over to the desk, bending over the wooden tabletop with the papers still littering it. It was at a level that made her bottom point outward, a perfect angle for Jon’s waist as he pressed against her bottom, allowing her to feel his hardened cock within his breeches.

“You wish to claim me in his chambers?” Sansa asked, peering over her shoulder again to see the dark shadows encompassing his face. She could feel his hands pulling at her skirts, lifting them up her legs until they were placed over her hips and onto the small of her back. “Maybe his ghost is watching?” she added impishly, biting down on her bottom lip at the feel of his warm, hard hands on her hips, tugging at the strings of her smallclothes.

“Maybe he is here and if so then he can watch again as I take you as mine,” Jon finally answered darkly as cool air touched the lips of her sex as her smallclothes fell to the ground.

He took his time here, trailing two fingers through her folds, sliding through the wetness she produced at his attentions. Sansa moaned through her throat, keeping her mouth pursed closed incase anyone was walking through the halls at this hour.

“So soft, so wet for me,” Jon mumbled to himself, Sansa hummed to his words, pressing back against his wandering fingers and being rewarded when he pushed two inside her.

Jon started pumping them in and out at a slow pace, curling his fingers on the way out that dragged against her warm and wet walls. Sansa buried her face into her arms, whining into them as she moved her hips to meet his questing fingers. His dark mumbling continued, sometimes mere nonsense and other times full sentences of pure poetry about the heat of her cunt, or the softness of her inner muscles. His mumblings were companied by the wet and filthy sounds of his fingers plundering inside her, pumping harder and harder.

She could feel her slick dripping down her thighs, she wondered if he’d make her squirt again, another nail in Harry’s non-existing coffin of how her brother loved and pleasured her better than he’d ever be able too. She wanted it too, the overbearing heat and the feeling of lost control that she gave up to her love, gods she wanted it. “Make me peak hard, Jon, please, please,” Sansa found herself pleading endlessly, moaning through her teeth when he pressed down on her nub with a roughened thumb.

His pumping fingers grew harder and faster, the heel of his hand pressing down on her bottom while his fingers started to hook inside her and seemingly shake her insides, creating that pleasurable burning sensation within her. Sansa bit down on her arm as she felt the explosion of her peak dancing through her nerves and the utter wetness at her cunt as Jon ripped her peak out of her. She moaned into her arm, shockwaves making her stomach clench while the rest of her tried to get away from his punishing fingers, but he didn’t relent, and she knew that she was drenching his breeches and her smallclothes on the floor.

Jon continued to rip one peak after the other from her being, pressing down with hard circles on her nub while jabbing her tightened cunt repeatedly with now three fingers, curling and hooking them. Sansa felt so foggy in her mind, whining and whimpering while the rest of her quaked and quivered. Eventually he stopped, but only for a second, only as long as it took for him to work his drenched breeches down his thighs and replace his fingers with his hard cock.

He leaned over her back, bottoming out inside her utterly wet and warm cunt as he mumbled in her ear, “Mine, mine, mine.” Sansa echoed his words, meeting his hard pounding hips with her still quivering bottom. He was inexorable in his movements, slamming as hard as he could against her bottom, practically bruising her soft inner muscles.

She loved it though, loved it when he was soft with her, loved it when he was rough with her. Sansa loved anything Jon did to her as long as it was him and no one else. He is mine and I am his, she mused in her foggy mind. She released her arm, moaning out his name and attaching, “mine, mine, mine,” with it. Jon pulled at her hair, tugging her back to make her arch and turn her head until his lips were biting at hers.

He took her like an animal, primal and aggressive, another smaller peak hit her as they kissed making the kiss sloppy and merely swapping of saliva between them. Jon grunted into her ear, biting down on her earlobe harshly then he brought his mouth to the junction between her neck and shoulder where he bit down so hard, she cried at the way her skin broke at the pressure. He’s marking me, he’s marking me as his. Considering her position, Sansa reached back to grab at his hand on her hip, tugging it up until she could bite down on his forearm as hard as she could manage.

Jon’s hips still continued their hard pounding, his hand still tugging harder and harder at her hair and his teeth still set indented into her skin as hers was into his. The combination of all three pushed her over the edge again, and not a second sooner she could feel her inner muscles warm at the feel of Jon’s seed coating them, warming her with his love. Sansa tasted blood in her mouth, Jon’s blood as she was sure he tasted hers as well. He tugged at her hair again, directing her to turn towards him where they kissed, another swapping of saliva and this time blood as well.

We are wolves, indeed, Sansa thought with a dazed smile as Jon pulled away from her lips to lick at the wound he placed upon her. It stung a little, but she learned to like a little pain with her pleasure.

Eventually Jon pulled out of her, cock going limp and covered in both their juices. Sansa found her smallclothes and her slippers drenched in her wetness along with darkness on the fabric of Jon’s breeches. She used her skirts to wipe up her slick on the floor, wishing to leave no evidence behind. She ended up holding her wet slippers in hand and didn’t miss Jon picking up her smallclothes and pocketing them.

The trek back to her chambers was far quicker than the trek to Harry’s. She quickly changed into her nightgown, dropping her dress and slippers into a hamper to be cleaned tomorrow before joining Jon by her hearth where he stoked the fire to a high blaze. He pulled out the marriage contract, staring at the writing on the paper for a moment before turning back to Sansa, holding out the paper for her as he said, “You do the honors.”

Sansa took hold of the paper glancing between it and the fire and with a release of a sigh, she flung the paper into the fire and watched the flames lick at the parchment, eating away at the written words in ink until it was nothing but ash to gather at the bottom. Jon moved to stand behind her, embracing her tightly to his chest as they watched the paper all but disappear for good. She wondered if that was the only copy, wondered if Harry had another or if there was a second hidden away in the Eyrie in Petyr’s solar. It didn’t matter though, if Harry had another at the Eyrie or not, it meant nothing now that he was gone.

What worried her more was the missing annulment papers. As long as her marriage with Tyrion stood then she never had to worry about unwanted betrothals and even if there were any she couldn’t follow through with any of them until Tyrion was proven dead or an annulment was granted. Sansa curled her hands around his at her belly, smiling at the feeling of his thumb caressing her gently, lovingly. They needed to find those papers, but even if they didn’t she was still pregnant with a bastard child, meaning her marriage prospects weren’t all that good regardless if the annulment was found or not.

She didn’t want to marry anyone else though, not unless she could marry Jon though that seemed highly impossible at this point. They were half-siblings and that was more than enough to damn them.

“I’m afraid, Jon,” she admitted softly, soaking up his warmth and caresses. She felt his nosing away her hair, pressing a kiss along the edge of her ear.

“Don’t be afraid, Sansa, I won’t let anything happen to you or our child. I promise you,” he answered into her ear, slowly rocking her against him as they stared at the fire. His words gave her ease of her anxiety, she knew without a doubt that Jon would do everything in his power to protect her and their baby.

If nothing else, he always kept his word to her…

\-----------------------------------------

Another lesson that was pressed upon her by Littlefinger was lying and the omission of facts. She got up the next morning as though nothing was amiss, not even sparing the new location of her dresser a thought. Sansa did, however, spent a few minutes crouched over her chamber pot, puking only water and dry heaving. She took that as a good sign for her pregnancy and went about her day.

She broke her fast with Jon and Davos, glancing over to Tormund whom only smiled in return before talking to the free folk around him. She spoke with Davos as per normal, smiling tightly and trying in vain to keep the heat from appearing on her cheeks when she felt Jon’s hand close over top of her thigh, stroking and caressing above her skirts. Sansa looked over the Great Hall, assessing the men and women that talked and ate, but she couldn’t help her eyes zeroing in on the spot where Harry had normally sat, nor the heavy thump in her chest when she found Lothor watching her carefully with narrowed eyes.

Jon squeezed her thigh comfortingly, asking her a question to draw her attention to him and though his words said something else, his eyes told her to not worry, to stay relaxed. It was easier than she thought to smile at his words and answer afterwards, but Lothor’s eyes was still burning as he watched her. One of the Lords of the Vale came to them, inquiring about Harry’s absence since he had supper with her last night. Sansa felt Jon’s hand gave her another encouraging squeeze before she stated that they spoke of old times before he left, that was the last time she saw him.

She was convincing enough for the lord to shrug, stating he’d send a servant to check on him though the younger lord was not known for sleeping in. Sansa turned her attention back to her food, appearing for all intents and purposes as though she was unbothered by the conversation. Honestly, she was, and it was the strangest feeling for her, to not truly care about Harry as she did. The only anxiety she felt was for Jon, worrying over when Harry’s body would be found and hoping upon the Old Gods that he was torn apart well and good to hide the fact that he was killed by man rather than animal.

Jon parted ways with her, giving a tender kiss on her temple before leaving with Davos and some other lords. Sansa watched them leave before taking her own leave, avoiding glancing over at Lothor.

She should have known she couldn’t escape that easily though.

Sansa finished talking to the cooks in the kitchens, giving them a list to give to their apprentices when they went into Winter Town for supplies. She felt strange flutters in her gut as she walked and the thought that it was the baby growing inside her brought a brilliant smile to her lips, pausing just short of rubbing her belly as she was out in the open. She moved on, aiming to speak with the wildling women and see how they were fairing before she found Lothor leaning against the corridor wall, causal like with his arms crossed, but his eyes on her told a different story.

He had been waiting to get her alone it seemed.

“Lady Sansa, a word, if you please,” Lothor asked kindly, yet his eyes looked anything but kind.

“Of course,” she responded politely, willing back the unease at being alone with him.

She led him down towards an empty chamber, a small solar that was used by a few of the lords when they needed a quiet place to think and compose scrolls and letters. Sansa cracked the door enough that if she needed to, she could run or scream and be heard. With a shallow swallow, she turned back to Lothor, giving me a polite smile that he did not return.

“How may I help you, Ser Brune?”

“Where’s Harry, Lady Sansa?” he immediately asked with no pretenses, arching a brow. Sansa kept her face blank, already knowing that he’d ask at some point though she hadn’t expected him to be so blunt then again, remembering the few times she interacted with him maybe she should have.

“I don’t know, Ser. The last time I saw him was at supper in my solar last night to which he left soon after the meal was finished.” Her answer seemed to rub him the wrong way as his eyes narrowed slightly while appraising her.

“I would believe that, if I hadn’t known why he wanted the private supper in the first place,” Lothor started, leaning his bottom against the desk as Sansa kept a prone state near the door. “I know he received the marriage contract between you both from the Eyrie and the annulment papers we got at the Citadel. I know he was going to tell you last night and I know he was supposed to meet me afterwards as well, so…” Lothor tilted his head slightly, bracing his hands on the edge of the desk. “Where is he?”

“As I said already, Ser, I don’t know where he is, nor do I care. Now if you will excuse me, I have a castle to attend too,” Sansa said in a clipped voice, turning around on her heel and leaving the knight behind. Though she reminded the picture of calm, on the inside her heart was pounding a terrifying beat and her body was screaming for her to run.

It was fight or flight instinct and it was telling her so harshly to flight, but she reframed from running. Show no weakness, she remembered, if they know you are afraid then it’ll be easier for them to rip you apart.

It was mid-afternoon when Harry was declared missing and it was just after supper that his body was found in the wolfwoods. Jon left with Davos to investigate his remains and that night as he towered over her, branding her soaked cunt as his that he told her the animals had done a number on what was left of Harry Hardyng. She peaked not too long after, begging Jon to fill her with his seed once more.

And it was the next day she had another encounter with Ser Lothor Brune.

He cornered her in the hall, backing her up into one of the dead-end corridors from prying eyes. He gave her hateful, angry eyes and she could practically hear his teeth grinding as he approached her.

“I know the bastard had him killed,” Lothor hissed, brow dropped over his eyes in his anger. Sansa scoffed on the inside as she remained as composed as possible. Jon didn’t have to have someone kill Harry for him, he’s man enough to do it himself, she mused.

“Or, Lord Harrold Hardyng did not like my answer to his proposal and went to blow off some steam.” He gave a dark chuckle, slamming his hands against the stone wall he had backed her up too, leaning dangerously close to her face.

“You see, I’d believe that had I not searched his chambers for the marriage papers and I know for a fact that they were hidden in a compartment in his trunk. It’s gone and with that any evidence placed against you both.” Sansa glared at him, jutting her chin outward as she showed him no fear.

“I’d watch your tongue if I were you, Ser,” Sansa growled out darkly, her muscles tensing up as though she was ready to fight. Her fight or flight instinct switching to fight from her cornered position. She even bared her teeth like a wolf, ready to rip his jugular out.

“Or what, you’ll have your bastard brother kill me too? Is that how he solves your problems for you, by killing those who stand in your way?” Lothor asked tauntingly, grinning at her angered state.

“I don’t know, Ser Brune, why don’t you keep going and find out,” she bit back, feeling satisfaction at his pause.

“Harry suspected your brother had indecent feelings towards you, but I didn’t believe him. It’s not only him though, is it? You two think you’re so secretive about your affair, your sinful incestuous affair. There are eyes watching you both, noting your interactions that aren’t very sibling like. Even your King’s hand has taken notice, so don’t think yourself so clever, my lady.”

“I’m done hearing your accusations. Either you step back and let me leave, or I can scream until your ear drums bleed. Your choice, Ser.” Lothor gave her a dirty look, glancing up and down her body.

“Such a waste, letting your brother fuck you like you do,” he muttered offhand, stepping back from her then a wave of his hand as though giving her leave.

Sansa huffed, turning her nose up that was reminiscent of her younger years and left with as much dignity as she could. It took her some thirty minutes to locate Jon, forcing him to beg off his duties and follow her to her solar. As soon as he closed and barred the door, she all but flung herself into his chest.

“Lothor Brune knows, Jon! He says everyone is watching us and that even Davos knows about us. I think he has the annulment papers too.” Jon cradled her against his chest, letting her relay what happened earlier.

“I’ll kill him,” Jon answered easily, moving to release her and leave. Sansa pushed him back into the door, burrowing her face into his chest as she told him, ‘no’. “I’ll get those papers and kill him, Sansa. He has no right to threaten you as he has, and I will not stand for it.”

Please, Jon, don’t make this any worse than it is!” she wailed, clinging to him, so he would not get any ideas about leaving to kill Lothor. “It’s too soon since Harry’s death, it’ll look suspicious! Please, Jon, listen to me!” He sighed at her plea, his muscles still tense but he made no move to set her aside. “We need to be more careful, Jon.”

“I want to be with you, Sansa. I want to marry you and have so many children,” Jon breathed out, his arms tightening around her body. She melted into his chest, nuzzling into the boiled leather as she relished the fact that he shared the same wish as she did.

“I want that too, but…it’s unrealistic for us…” Sansa hated to say it out loud, to acknowledge how they could never truly be together as they hoped and wished for. It truly was unrealistic of them, even if she never remarries again, Jon will have to find a wife soon. He can beg off right now with some much happening and wars that have yet to come, but afterwards…

It was unrealistic of them to think they could be together like they wished and dreamed. Sansa felt that strange fluttering in her stomach again. Even their little one cooking in her stomach would never get to truly know Jon as their father, he’d be their uncle and King, and they would either have to regard Tyrion as their father or truly be bastards…like Jon. She knew that didn’t matter to her, but even if Jon acted as though he didn’t care, she knew it bothered him to think that far along.

“I need to get back, Sansa,” Jon finally said after a few solid minutes of silence between them. Sansa clenched her eyes shut, trying to will away the tears that wanted to form.

Eventually she stepped back from him, accepting a kiss on the lips that felt bittersweet at best then watched as Jon left her alone in her solar. She loitered around in her chambers for an hour or so, composing herself mentally and trying to get her moist eyes to dry out. Once she was sure that she wouldn’t suddenly burst into tears, she exited her chambers though she didn’t get far.

“Lady Sansa.” She turned around to see Davos walking her way, she directed a smile at him.

“Ser Davos, is there anything I can do for you?” Sansa inquired politely, trying to produce a smile but utterly failing as she remembered what Lothor had said about the older man. Does he truly know?

He gave her a gentle smile, approaching her and stopping at a respectable foot. “Yes, could we take this in your solar?”

Sansa nodded, but the feeling that something wasn’t right made her nervous and straighten her shoulders. She opened her door, coming in and letting Davos shut it behind him. When she turned around, she saw his face turn into a slight frown as he directed his eyes around the room before connecting with hers.

“What I have to say my lady is not easy and quite inappropriate, but I tried broaching the subject with Jon and he closed up on me like a clam,” Davos started, placing his hands behind his back as he seemed to gather his strength to continue. “I have noticed among others that you and Jon have a very…close relationship with each other, one that begs the question of how close and how proper it is.”

“I hadn’t realized having a close relationship with the only family I have left to me could be considered improper,” Sansa said sternly, trying her best to not snap at her brother’s Hand. He looked regretful for bringing it up, but the fact that he and others were noticing their close relationship scared her. Her stomach made an unfortunately grumble as a choking effect came upon her throat.

Before Davos could say more, Sansa spun around and ran to her chamber pot in her bed chambers, throwing up what food she had ate earlier that hadn’t been digested already. She leaned over the pot, hacking and hacking with painful clenches of her stomach muscles. A hand touched her back, brushing her hair from her face as she continued to heave up anything else left in her stomach. Davos handed her a handkerchief to wipe the mess from her mouth before walking over to pour her a glass of water. Sansa mumbled a ‘thank you’ and sipped at the glass, avoiding his gaze.

He watched her with keen eyes though. “How far along are you?”

Sansa swallowed another small sip, aiming to stall time to redirect his question to something else, but when she finally looked at him and saw the concern in his eyes, she couldn’t do anything but answer. “A moon, maybe two. I’m not quite sure.”

He nodded, firmly in thought. The silence between them stretched until he asked, “Is it Jon’s?”

Her silence was her answer, she supposed as she bowed her head without a word spoken between them. Davos coughed to clear his throat, shuffling around uncomfortably.

“I know,” Sansa started, licking her dry lips as she strung her scattered thoughts together. “I know it’s wrong of us and I know no one would ever understand, least of all you. But I love him, and he loves me, and after everything I have been through, I think I deserve that much.”

Sansa connected eyes with Davos, hers watery with tears threatening to spill and she could see how uncomfortable with the whole situation he was. Instead of leaving, or stating how sinful her relationship with Jon was, he just sighed with his shoulders deflating before giving her a small, tired smile.

“You are right, my lady. I don’t understand how feelings between siblings could happen, I, myself, do not have any sisters to speak of. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand what you have been through and that doesn’t mean I don’t understand how much Jon has helped you. You both created a child out of love, my thoughts on it aren’t of concern right now. Have you gone to see the maester yet?” Davos gave her an encouraging smile and the tension inside her evaporated at the sight.

They spoke for a few minutes about pregnancy, Davos explaining the many different things that went on with his wife during her pregnancies. As they sat and talked, Sansa felt a kinship with him, almost like she was talking to her father instead. It was nice feeling and it was even better to have someone to speak about her physical state, someone who knew more than she did even if he was a man and never experienced it firsthand.

“I have other worries though. Ser Lothor Brune has papers, annulment papers that Littlefinger paid to get from the Citadel for he intended to wed me to Harry Hardyng, but,” Sansa breathed out softly, “the marriage was never contracted. Still he has them and if he presents them to the lords…”

“You will be eligible for marriage once more and they will fight until Jon decides on one and I can assume correctly that he won’t allow that?” Davos asked gently, rubbing his bearded chin in thought.

“No, he would never allow it,” she answered lowly, placing a gentle hand on her stomach.

“Well, my lady, that is quite the predicament. I do think I can help though. You are certain that the papers are in Ser Brune’s possession?” Sansa immediately nodded, remembering the look on his face when he cornered her.

“Most certain!”

“And how sure are you that it is not among Lord Hardyng’s belongings?” Davos inquired. At that she paused, realizing that she might have to tell a bit of truth.

“Once we realized, Jon and I searched his chambers and found nothing.” She could see the perplexed expression on his face, the frown that wrinkled his brow and turned his lips downward.

“How did you find out about the papers?”

“The night Harry wanted a private supper in my solar. He announced his intentions to try and follow through with the betrothal though it had not been finalized and not with my true identity. I told him ‘no’ and he left.” Sansa dug her fingers into the skirts of her dress, watching as he absorbed the information given to him. She could tell he was piecing things together, slowly but surely, he might realize what Jon had done. “I told Jon afterwards and we searched his chamber and found nothing,” she quickly added.

“I see. Well, I am known for being quite the smuggler. Give me some time and I will check his chambers thoroughly for those papers.”

“Truly? You would do that for us, for me?” Sansa asked in disbelief. She knew Davos to be a shrewd man, stern and smart, but she hadn’t thought him so thoughtful and caring. She realized how much she hadn’t gotten to know the older man and seeing how he was trying to help her instead of damning her and Jon over their relationship, she found that she wanted to rectify that.

“Yes. Jon is my King and you are my Lady of Winterfell. I care for you both like my children and that means I will protect you like my children.” His answer brought tears to her eyes. Quickly she waved him off, mumbling about her hormones.

Davos told her he’d let her know what he found as soon as he could get into the chambers unseen. For the rest of that day, Sansa felt better than ever. Smiling and interacting, even Jon was astonished by her turnaround, especially so that night when she got down on her knees and took his cock into her mouth. She had had awful experiences with that action, awful memories of doing so for Petyr, being forced to continue until perfection.

Yet with Jon it was like something new. Of course, for Jon it was new, and he couldn’t get enough of her lovely lips wrapped around his girth and her tongue dancing along his shaft. Jon spilled like a green boy rather quickly, especially when she allowed his cock’s head to slip down her throat as she engulfed him whole. He howled like a wolf and when she was done, he kissed her lips then placed her on her bed to give her practically the same treatment.

Everything seemed to be just wonderful that day and night, until the next morning that is. Davos came to her after they broke their fast, stating he had searched out the whole chambers, but had not found any annulment papers. Sansa tried not to despair over it, but the smug look on Lothor’s face when she came across him out in the courtyard told her he did have them and probably on his person too.

If so then there wasn’t much she could do, unless she decided to let Jon take Lothor out and that was very, very tempting. Sansa reined in her darker impulses, searching her mind to try and work out a better solution than just killing the man. They were to have court at noon to discuss the wars ahead and the recent death of both heirs to the Eyrie. Sansa dreaded it, but Harry’s death was ruled as accidental by the maester, so there weren’t any implications to be had about her and Jon having a part in his death. Still, that didn’t mean the Vale army wouldn’t go back to the Eyrie while another heir was decided. She could only imagine the chaos going on over there, surely there would be fighting as every lord would aim for that type of power.

Sansa just kept telling herself that it wasn’t her problem right now.

Everything started off smoothly at first. It was decided that the Vale army would say in Winterfell’s walls for the time being as they were not needed while the lords of the Eyrie figured out another heir. Hearing their decision eased both her and Jon’s worries, she eyed him to see his shoulders relax as he nodded to the decision.

Then Lothor stood up from the table he was seated at, drawing attention to him. Sansa felt like the air grew tense, or maybe that was just her. She glanced over to Jon to see him looking for all intents and purposes very angry, she wanted to reach over to grasp his hand, but held back.

“I wish to discuss a concern of mine,” Lothor announced, his eyes staring hard at the both of them.

“What would that entail, Ser Brune?” Jon asked, his voice deep and dark. He looked ready to stand and whip out longclaw. Sansa couldn’t help but wish he did.

“I was sent on a mission with Lord Harrold Hardyng by Petyr Baelish. We were sent to the Citadel where we procured papers of annulment for Sansa Stark’s marriage to Tyrion Lannister.” There was a hush over the lords in the Great Hall. Sansa watched as a few glanced between Lothor and her, she could already hear their thoughts of opportunity to push for her to be wed once more. Her fingers curled inward as she stared the knight down, wishing she had let Jon do as he pleased, wishing to see how much blood Lothor Brune spilled in death.

“How are we to believe you?” Lord Royce called out, distrust evident on his features. Lothor smirked, reaching inside of his jerkin to produce folded papers.

“This is it, certified by the Grand Maester at the Citadel, himself. I state this because a few nights ago, Lord Hardyng had a private supper with Lady Stark to discuss her annulment and the marriage contract written by Petyr Baelish, whom she was warded to. I find it peculiar that he was found dead the next day and the contract missing from his chambers.” Lords started talking among themselves, glancing between the head table and Lothor.

“I did speak to Lord Hardyng about the annulment papers, but he did not have any marriage contract and if he did, he had not produced them to be certified by me or anyone else who knew Lord Baelish’s signature. That being said, if there was one it would contain the name ‘Alayne Stone’, the bastard identity I had to take so I would not be killed or sold back to the Lannisters upon false charges of murder,” Sansa said evenly and eloquently, lacing her fingers together in her lap as she appeared relaxed and calm. “So, you see, he would not have gotten far with a marriage contract, if there was one, with a false name upon it.”

“Regardless, Lord Hardyng, the heir of the Eyrie after Robert Arryn’s death and Lord Protector of the Vale is found dead afterwards. Do not any of you find that suspicious?” Lothor questioned, looking around as more whispers were said.

Jon stood up abruptly, his chair screeching loudly on the stone floor. “So, what you are saying, if I am correct, Ser Brune, is that my dear sister somehow subdued a man twice her size over annulment papers and a non-existent marriage contract and took Lord Hardyng out to the wolfwoods to what? Kill him? Be rid of his body?” Jon gave a dark chuckle, a few fellow lords following in kind. “And who are you to accuse Lady Stark of such a deed? A lowly knight from a low house who is known for working under Petyr Baelish who was hanged for his crimes. Do you really wish to continue?”

Sansa felt true relief at Jon’s words. He sounded so strong, so righteous. She could already feel herself becoming wet, she pressed her thighs tightly together to try and relieve the ache. Lothor thought he had the upper hand, but what he had forgotten was her and Jon’s status verses his. Sansa hadn’t thought of it herself until she spoke to Jon that night, fearing that Lothor would bring the annulment paper up at the meeting and accuse them of murder. Jon scoffed at her fears, holding her against his chest as he reminded her that Lothor wasn’t Cersei or anyone high lord with pull, it was him against them.

“You all see it don’t you?” Lothor said, looking around himself at the lords, Valemen and wildlings. He looked fearful, he looked angry, Sansa mused, he looked cornered. “The sick and disgusting relationship your King has with his sister, the very reason why Lord Hardyng was killed in the first place! You can ask any servant, King Jon has not fully slept a night in his own chambers, he’s been sleeping in hers, with her.”

At first, Sansa wasn’t afraid of his accusations, but as some lords glanced at each other and a few leaning towards each other to whisper among themselves, she realized that maybe they hadn’t been as discreet as they should have been. Lothor called out to one of her handmaidens who came forward, head bowed lowly as she spoke of finding Jon dressing in Sansa’s bed chamber, dressing from being fully nude. Sansa whipped her head towards Jon, seeing his eyes darken severely. What was made worse was when a few lower lords mentioned Jon constantly touching her, giving her kisses on the cheek, forehead and temple. Before they knew there was yelling as lords for them called out the ones seemingly against them.

“They’re not siblings!”

Everyone grew silent, all eyes turned and directed on Davos where he stood up and shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Excuse me, but as I was saying, they are not siblings. I have papers coming to prove that Lord Eddard Stark is not Jon’s true father. Samwell Tarly, a brother of the Night’s Watch found a birth certificate stating as such.” Sansa willed away the confusion immediately, seeing Jon do much the same. Davos was sticking his neck out for them, lying so gravely. “Once we receive the birth certificate, I suggest that a marriage between the King in the North and our Lady of Winterfell,” Davos concluded confidently, seating himself once more.

Sansa felt like she was in a whirlwind as the meeting went on with many discussions, few objections to the prospect of marriage between her and Jon and finally when and how they knew about the birth certificate. Davos answered so many questions with such ease of falsehood, Sansa was mildly impressed. By the end, Lothor was apprehended for false accusations and there was a very high probability of a marriage between her and Jon. Davos even stating that Sansa being the true Stark of Winterfell should be reinstated as Queen and as such could choose whomever her husband could be.

In private, Jon thanked Davos for his lies, for saving them. Sansa embraced him so tightly, she almost squeezed the very air in his lungs out. She knew how hard it was for the onion knight to lie as he had done, she could see it on his face, but he cupped her cheek sweetly and stated he did what was right and not only for them, but for their baby.

Jon set up a private supper between them that night though they barely made it through the course before he had her on the table top to have her for dessert. Sansa moaned and whined, not bothering to keep her voice down and relishing how loud and hoarse her voice could become. Her loudness seemed to encourage Jon as he stroked his tongue between her folds, pushing into her cunt to taste her wetness and touch her inner muscles. She clutched his hair tightly, her ankles crossing behind his head to lock him into place.

Eventually she begged him to finish her. “Make me peak, Jon!”

His lips redirected to her nub, sucking the swollen fleshy button from hiding and rubbing it with his tongue until she practically ripped his hair out as she peaked. Jon pulled off her, forcing her legs to open then he was carrying her back to her bed chamber, kissing and discarding clothes as they went.

“You are mine, Sansa Stark, now and forever. You will know no other man but me and you will bear no other man’s babes but mine. I love you,” Jon said heatedly, sinking fully into her wet cunt, pressing wet kisses into the skin of her neck.

“We’re wolves, Jon and wolves mate for life. You will know no other woman but me and no other woman will bear your babes but me, now and forever, and no other woman could ever love you like I do,” Sansa vowed huskily, swallowing his groan at her words.

He started off slow, rhythmic thrusting with her ankles locked around his thighs, her fingers pressed tightly against his shoulders and their eyes gazing into each other’s. Sansa felt like live fire, burning hotter and hotter with each soft thrust of his cock burying inside her. It was sweet, sensual and thrilling in his softness towards her. We’re making love, Sansa thought as she rutted her hips forward to meet his gentle thrusts.

It was a slow build up, Jon’s thrusts becoming harder and harder with each passing minute. Sansa kept hold of his shoulders, dragging her nails down his back and up again, leaning up to kiss and nibble at his neck before sinking her teeth in between his shoulder and neck. Jon groaned and growled, rearing back to start a pounding, more punishing pace. Sansa loved it all, stating as such with her moans and whimpers after she released his bruised flesh. His eyes connected with hers once more and they stayed that well until she had reached her peak and Jon hit his with her flesh fluttering around him.

Jon took her a few minutes later with her legs over his shoulders, relentlessly thumbing her swollen nub and making her peak and wet herself and the bed. It was well into the early morning before he fell asleep, but only after having a second around of her cunt as a ‘midnight snack’.

Sansa wasn’t sure if she had fallen asleep or not, all she knew was that her stomach was upset, and she was feeling rather restless. Half of her thought she should stay near the chamber pot, knowing she was leaning towards puking while the other half of her was so restless and needed movement. She opted to walk around her solar after taking the chamber pot with her, just in case. She looked around the darkened chamber, lighting one candle to see by and flushing deeply when she noticed a few papers left on her writing desk.

The first paper she snatched up was the annulment papers of her marriage to Tyrion. Reading the words of agreement to annul the marriage under the pretenses of unconsummation brought more happiness than she thought she could possibly contain inside. Sansa wiped away a few stray tears after reading it twice then she looked through the rest of the papers, stopping when she noticed one that was still sealed. The seal resembled a lizard type beast, it only took her a moment to realize it was a lizard-lion, the sigil for house Reed.

Sansa remembered stories of Howland Reed from her father, a dear friend who was there when her aunt Lyanna was found. She knew that house Reed was located in the Neck, she wondered if he meant to treat with them and show loyalty towards the remaining Starks. She glanced over to her bed chamber door, seeing Jon motionless in slumber. Sansa popped the seal, opening the scroll to read the contents within.

It was short, stating that Howland Reed, himself, was coming up from the Neck with important information in regards to the King in the North, Jon Snow and to finally meet at the last living trueborn child of Eddard Stark. Sansa felt a bit confused by his interest and insistence in coming, knowing the man was about her father’s age, or would have been, meaning he wasn’t as young as he used to be, and it was a long trek from the Neck up to Winterfell. There was another thing that she wondered though, what exactly it was that was so important and that it had to do with Jon. For a moment, Sansa feared that this old friend of her father’s would ruin everything, stating that Jon was truly her father’s bastard, quickly she squashed the fear as her stomach clenching warningly.

It doesn’t matter what he had to say, and his scroll said nothing about Jon’s parentage though it had to be important for him to not write it out. Sansa smiled, rubbing her belly before dropping the scroll to join Jon back in bed. She just repeated the same thing to herself that she had when Jon killed Harry.

Together we are complete and death to those who think they can tear us apart…  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada!!! I did intentionally leave it open in case I wanted to add more later, but I like doing that with many of my stories (mainly oneshots), so if inspiration strikes I can add more. I hope this wasn't too...unrealistic? I feel like a lot of the conflict got avoided, but for good reasons like the he said, she said then with Davos wanting to save them and such. I knew I wanted to end the story fully for now and I didn't want to leave too many loose ends untied, so I am sorry if it tied up too neatly for what happened. I originally was going to have Jon bring Davos in on what to do with Harry then go through a whole trial to prove he was saying Sansa's virtue, but then the whole Lothor with the annulment papers coming out and...it was becoming a headache and a half which was why I scratched it. I wouldn't have minded trying that route, but I wanted to get this done plus I only have two out of seven oneshots done for Smut week (luckily their the first two prompts) and I need/want to get those done and finished! Not to mention write the next chapter for 'The Sacrifice' and finally finish 'Travelling the Middle Ground' too.
> 
> So many commitments before class starts again! T-T Anywho, please let me know whatcha think! ^_~


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